#god the yearning in this one is palpable

[bloodydeanwinchester]

destiel thesis statement

asterism of an f-series ford pick up

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: implied noncon, desperate starved reader, God!Gojo

gn reader

based on this by @hawnks

He's worshipped, but worship alone doesn’t make those who pray by his shrine his belongings.

Even pets run away when they don't like the food.

He could take lives, which suppose some of his fellow gods might view as ownership, but right when he ran out of places to wash the blood off his hands, he’d sooner found it to be an empty pastime bearing no merit.

After all, taking lives doesn't mean they belong to you—it just means they’re dead. 

He'd come to realize that the power to take is a far cry from the prospect of actually owning something—something he can truly call his. He could level a forest and everything in it, crush mountains to deserts, drink the entire ocean dry—but it wouldn’t make any of it his.

It leaves him feeling stingy when yet another measly human comes before him—on your knees with your forehead bowed in the dirt, skinny hands shaking while laid flat out before you, cracked lips crying his name.

With his chin propped in his palm, he yawns while listening to you, and with jaded eyes, he nearly dismisses you altogether. But there’d been a question he’d been mulling over lately—one that had found its way to the tip of his tongue.

“What do I get in return?”

You’re only asking for very little—one of the humbler humans who still bother praying to him. You might see it as greedy of him to ask you for something in return—a poor soul with nothing but your sorry name. But what you don’t understand is that you and he are the exact same.

Dirt poor.

In many ways, he has it a lot worse. You could die. He could not. Infinity would pan on forever and drag him with it as if with a ball and chain—and he’d remain destitute and alone for the entirety of it all.

Which is why…

“You can have me, I guess…”

It sounded so sweet—like a vow.

You say it with such defeat, as though you’ve already accepted his rejection—as though you’re about to offer yourself to the forest next—as though you're worth nothing more than returning to soil again. 

You don’t notice the new light in his eyes that threatens to swallow you whole, nor do you hear the growl in his gut like a beast awoken from a deep slumber—starved to death if he only could. His tongue swells with sweetness, it nearly runs over and spills down his chin.

Your offer hangs still in the air, poised and waiting for him to grab it, brighter than a star. It nearly frightens him—how much he wants it—how desperately he yearns for it. His fingertips buzz with thrill as he reaches out. He’s never held something like it before—soft and warm and flickering with something fleeting and precious. It almost feels wrong for him to hold it in his blood-soaked hands. Eyes all but blacked out as he looks down at it.

“Mine, you say?” 

You feel it, too, but it’s not close to the same sense of elevation—how he reaches into your chest and scribbles his name on your soul. Each letter is heavier than the last and leaves you curling in on yourself in agony, screaming before you fall silent.

Panting once you look up, you clutch your chest, only to see his sneer gone, replaced by something worse—something haunting.

The regret is palpable. You pick yourself up and take to running away—but by then, it’s too late. You don’t make it more than two steps before something has you tugged right back—this time into his embrace.

“I accept your generous sacrifice, little human.”

His words weigh awfully heavy while you shudder in his lap. His skin is like marble—shimmery and cold as his hands wrap around you, holding you tightly as he puts his lips to your neck.

"I'll take precious care of you..."

You feared he’d bite, but the kisses that commence feel no less like a collar being fastened snug around your throat. As well as his promise—like being sentenced to spend eternity right there, hand-fed under that awful smile on his face.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[theinnerunderrain]

Flowers only bloom when the sun comes out [Yan! Prince x Fem! Maid-Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, child neglect, mentions of suggestive behaviors and lustful behaviors, manipulative thoughts, etc.

+

Miserable.

Prince Cassian would choose "miserable" as the precise term to depict his fragile existence. Born a prince into a mighty kingdom, his father ruled with an iron fist and unwavering will. Yet, despite his royal lineage, his life felt devoid of meaning, a constant struggle in the shadows of his father's reign. Maybe his father held Cassian accountable, at least in part, for the death of his beloved queen. Perhaps that's why he was abandoned to decay in the queen's once-grand residence, where dust settled like a shroud, paint flaked from the walls, and sinister spiders claimed every corner.

However, the king, perhaps out of lingering kindness or a trace of pity, permitted servants to attend to the prince. Yet, few were inclined to care for a forsaken prince; servants came and went as the boy matured into a young man. Initially, some felt sympathy for him, but they soon departed upon realizing there was no benefit. Others, driven by greed, chipped away at the scant jewelry and valuables left in the building before absconding to sell them in the market. His existence drifted aimlessly, filled with endless hours staring out his window or sipping the bitter tea his younger sister, kind but unaware of his plight, managed to sneak to him.

It all seemed so pointless.

Then, one day, you appeared. A young maid, your smile radiant and your enthusiasm palpable as you embarked on this new job. He couldn't help but feel sorry for you, knowing that your optimism would soon be crushed once you discovered the reality of serving a prince like him, someone you might deem unworthy of your efforts. Every day, he observed you closely, noting your tireless efforts and how your face, though marked by exhaustion from tasks meant for many, retained a composed and bright demeanor.

He found himself admiring your diligent work ethic, transforming his once bitter teatime into a sweeter experience as you mastered the art of brewing it just right. The clothes he wore now carried a scent of softness, feeling gentle against his skin, a stark contrast to the past when they often felt itchy and smelled of sweat. The garden flourished with the flowers you tended to, and his bedroom felt fresh and inviting, as if it were truly lived in. Your presence became a source of comfort for him. He enjoyed your greetings each morning, your smiles making him feel truly alive, reminding him of his own humanity.

He felt a growing desire to be near you, craving the comfort of your presence. He longed to bask in the warmth of your soft smile, to feel the gentle touch of your hand as you helped him dress. He treasured the moments when you enveloped him in warmth on cold, restless nights haunted by memories of his mother. Your gentle fingers combing through his hair brought a soothing calmness to his troubled mind. He delighted in teasing you during work hours, reveling in the sight of your face blushing a deep scarlet as his hands playfully found their way to your waist, causing you to momentarily lose your grip on the dustpan before scolding him.

He likes you.

Well, he didn't just like you. He was consumed by you, obsessed with every thought of you, you, you.

He yearned to be enveloped in your essence, to drown in your intoxicating fragrance, to be devoured whole by you. He craved for your lips to consume his, for your touch to consume his skin, for every part of him to be consumed by you. He was acutely aware that his thoughts about you would be deemed sinful by the church, yet he couldn't help but question God's justice in abandoning him for a crime he didn't commit. Considering your background as a commoner's daughter, burdened with constant toil, he doubted you had any prior experience with men, leading him to wonder if he might be your first.

He hoped you preferred younger men, despite his slight age difference. He vowed to bring you pleasure so intense that it would bring tears to your eyes. With your face flushed in red with his hands tracing over the curve of your body, admiring the plumpness of your swollen breast. The way your supple body would quiver and twitch with every flick of his tongue against your adorable clit, with your soft thighs grappling around his head much like soft pillows.

Ah, perhaps he shouldn't be thinking of such lustful matters.

Anyway, he was acutely aware that as a powerless and forgotten prince, his presence posed a constant danger to himself and those close to him. His older siblings, viewing him as a potential threat to the throne, could easily target him. He contemplated two options: either showing up at the King's castle, pleading with his father to take him back, or fleeing with you to another country. The idea of living as a commoner didn't seem so daunting, considering his current life despite his royal title. Yet, a third, more manipulative thought crept into his mind—perhaps he could exploit his younger sister's naivety to regain entry to the main palace, using her pity as a means to an end.

He believed that in the end, whatever sacrifices were necessary to attain the power to keep you would be worthwhile.

[thewulf]

Teaching Trails || Azriel

Summary: Request - can i request a teacher reader x azriel where she's Nyx's teacher/tutor and feyre or rhysand asks az to pick him up since they're busy and he swears he falls in love on sight seeing reader be so sweet on Nyxie and how comfortable Nyx is around reader? just something sweet and fluffy and maybe a super nervous az when reader notices him at the doorway?? You can decide the rest. love your work!

A/N: Ahhhh I loved writing this. Idk I just picture Nyx as a sweet bubbly 5/6 year old in this. Adored writing this!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy!!)

As you stand at the edge of one of the many expansive terraces of the House of Wind, the air around you is crisp, the sky a clear, deep blue above the sprawling city of Velaris below. This majestic residence is perched like an eagle's nest atop a solitary mountain and commands a breathtaking view of the Night Court. Its beauty a sure giveaway to ancient power and elegance. Yet despite its grandeur there’s a poignant isolation to it. Especially for young Nyx, whose days are spent within these walls that soar closer to the stars than to the streets where other children play.

Inside the palace is a labyrinth of ornate halls and vast chambers. Each room a masterpiece of art and architecture designed for gods rather than a playful child. The echo of Nyx’s laughter often bounces off the high ceilings. A reminder of the solitude that accompanies his royal upbringing. He is a small but vibrant figure roaming the endless corridors exploring shadowed corners and hidden nooks. His solitude veiled by the splendor surrounding him.

It's during one such quiet evening as the horizon painted a watercolor of twilight hues that Feyre brings up her growing concern to Rhysand. They are in their private chambers. A place where the masks of High Lord and Lady can be set aside. Where vulnerabilities can be voiced without the weight of a crown.

"Nyx needs more than just us. He needs more than this palace," Feyre starts with her voice steady yet filled with an urgency that draws Rhysand’s full attention. "He’s missing out on normal interactions. The kind that happen away from royal duties and ceremonial greetings. He’s a child. He should be learning through play, through friendships formed in mud and laughter. Not just in state rooms and formal gardens."

Rhysand’s expression is torn. As a father he yearns for Nyx to have every happiness the world can offer. But as a ruler the thought of his son, so precious and so exposed, wandering beyond the enchanted safety of their home is daunting. "It's dangerous, Feyre," he counters. His voice laced with a protective edge. "The world isn’t always kind, especially not to those of royal blood."

"But isn’t it more dangerous to raise him in a bubble? How will he learn to lead? To understand his people, if he only ever sees them from a balcony or at formal events?" Feyre’s hands gesture emphatically. Her eyes alight with passion. "We need to let him explore, Rhys. We need to let him be a child. Not just a prince." Their conversation stretches into the night. Debates entwined with silent contemplations until a resolution begins to dawn much like the first light over the Sidra. Rhysand’s fears don’t dissipate entirely but his love for Nyx and his trust in Feyre’s instincts lead him to a concession.

"Alright," he says finally. A reluctant smile breaking through his concerns. "We’ll find him a teacher. Someone who can guide him, teach him, yes, but also someone who can take him beyond these walls. Let him learn about life. About our people through his own experiences. Not just through stories and reports."

Feyre’s relief is palpable and together they set out to find the perfect candidate. The search is exhaustive with candidates from across Prythian and beyond interviewed. They seek not just an educator but a guardian of sorts. Someone who understands the delicate balance of nurturing a child like Nyx. Someone who can foster his curiosity and protect his spirit.

The search for a tutor for young Nyx was not a decision taken lightly. Within the ornate conference room of the House of Wind, Feyre, Rhysand, and other key members of the Inner Circle—save for Azriel, who was away on duty—gathered to commence the rigorous interview process. The room was filled with an air of solemnity as each candidate presented themselves. Their credentials scrutinized not just for academic excellence but for a deeper understanding and alignment with the values of the Night Court.

Mor, with her keen sense of people, led the questioning. Her bright eyes missing nothing. Cassian injected moments of levity lightening the mood with his humor. While Amren's piercing gaze seemed to delve into the very souls of the candidates searching for sincerity and resilience. Each member of the Inner Circle brought their own perspective ensuring that the chosen teacher would not only educate Nyx academically but would also nurture his emotional and cultural development.

Then you entered the room. With a demeanor both warm and composed you introduced yourself. As you spoke about your educational philosophy making sure to emphasize experiential learning and emotional intelligence the panel was visibly impressed. Your background in educational psychology coupled with your years of experience teaching in diverse environments highlighted your capability to adapt and thrive in any teaching scenario. More importantly your genuine passion for fostering young minds resonated deeply with Feyre who nodded appreciatively at your thoughtful answers.

Throughout the interview, your approach to education which focused on developing both the intellect and the heart of a student was clearly aligned with the Night Court's ideals. You spoke of the importance of understanding each student's unique needs and adapting lessons to fit those needs. Even suggesting outdoor classes and cultural excursions that would allow Nyx to learn about his heritage in a tangible, engaging way.

As the interviews concluded and the candidates departed the room buzzed with discussions. It was clear to everyone that you stood out not just for your qualifications but for the gentle strength you exhibited. A trait they all deemed perfect for handling the sensitive nature of their prince's education.

When the decision was made Feyre personally reached out to offer you the position. The joy and excitement in your voice as you accepted was palpable. Aware of the immense responsibility of teaching the heir of the Night Court you were nonetheless thrilled by the opportunity to make a significant impact in a young child's life.

As you prepared to step into this new role your heart was buoyant with anticipation. Not just for the challenges ahead but for the chance to contribute to shaping a future leader of the Night Court. The trust placed in you by such revered figures was not just an honor but a truth to your life's work and passion igniting a fervent desire to start this new chapter.

In the heart of Velaris away from the towering isolation of the House of Wind you spend a delightful morning with Nyx at one of the city's lush public gardens. The day is warm. The gentle buzz of the city a distant backdrop to the laughter and learning that fills the air around the two of you.

You laid out a picnic blanket under the shade of a towering silverleaf tree. The spread covered with books, sketchpads, and an assortment of colorful pencils. Today's lesson is about the flora and fauna of Prythian. A topic that has Nyx bubbling with excitement and curiosity. As he sketches a butterfly that landed briefly on the edge of your blanket you explain the role of pollinators in the ecosystem, delighted by his insightful questions and the meticulous care he takes with his drawing.

"Nyx, do you see how the colors of its wings can tell us about its environment?" you ask as you were pointing to the delicate patterns that mirror the blooms around you.

"Yes!" he exclaims. His eyes lighting up with understanding. "It’s like camouflage, right? They blend in to stay safe from predators!"

"Exactly," you reply. Your heart swelling with pride at his quick grasp of the concepts.

The lesson shifts seamlessly from science to history as you guide Nyx through the stories of the Night Court. Each tale woven into the landmarks visible from your spot in the garden. Nyx listens, rapt, as you tell him about the ancient fae who once walked these paths. The battles they fought and the peace that now thrives in their stead.

As the morning progresses Nyx's natural curiosity leads him to a question that makes you pause. His small voice tinged with genuine wonder. "Why don't you have wings like my mom, dad, Uncle Cassian and Uncle Az? Like that pretty butterfly?" he asks. His head tilting as he regards you thoughtfully.

You smile softly, touched by his innocent inquiry. "Well, not all fae have wings, Nyx. Just like not all flowers have thorns," you explain using an analogy you know he'll understand. "Each of us is unique with different abilities and gifts. It’s what makes us all special in our own way."

Nyx nods considering this. "I think it’s cool you don’t need wings to fly. You have books and stories that can take you anywhere," he decides with a wise look crossing his features that makes you chuckle.

"That’s a wonderful way to put it, Nyx. And remember, we all have our own ways of soaring," you say ruffling his hair affectionately.

As you begin to pack up the day's learning materials you lean closer to Nyx with a conspiratorial whisper. "Tomorrow, we’re going to do something special. We'll join a class with other children your age. You’ll get to play and learn together with them," you tell him watching his face light up with sheer delight.

"Really? I'll have friends to play with?" His voice is filled with excitement. His earlier thoughts about wings forgotten in the anticipation of meeting new friends.

"Absolutely," you assure him sharing in his excitement. "It’ll be a lot of fun and you’ll make lots of new friends."

Nyx's eyes sparkle with anticipation as he begins to imagine the possibilities. "I'm going to tell mom and dad all about it tonight!" he exclaims already planning out his evening conversation. "And I’ll tell Uncle Az too. He likes hearing about my adventures."

The mention of Azriel, whom you've only heard about through Nyx’s enthusiastic stories, adds an interesting layer to your perception of the mysterious figure. "That sounds like a great idea," you respond, amused, and intrigued by Nyx’s affectionate mention of his uncle. "It seems Uncle Az is quite the hero in your stories."

"Yeah! He’s really cool! He can disappear like a shadow and is always on secret missions," Nyx says. His admiration for Azriel evident in his wide eyes and animated gestures.

The day ends with Nyx bouncing along the path back to you classroom chatting animatedly about all the things he hopes to do with the other children. His excitement about sharing his upcoming school day with his family, especially with his beloved Uncle Az, whom you've yet to meet but feel like you already know through Nyx's tales, fills the air with joy.

Your heart warms at his enthusiasm knowing that these new experiences are exactly what he needs. As Nyx sketches another flower with his small hand moving confidently you know these moments of joy and anticipation are as precious to him as they are to you, nurturing not just a young prince’s mind but also his spirit. The connections he's building with his family, with you, and soon with his peers are shaping him into a thoughtful, well-rounded individual, ready to explore the world with confidence and curiosity.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon casting a warm, golden light through the windows of your classroom the day's adventures wind down to a quieter, more reflective pace. You sit in a cozy corner of the room on a soft, plush cushioned area you've set up specifically for reading. Nyx nestles beside you as his energy from earlier now softened into the gentle tiredness of a day well spent. In your hands a beautifully illustrated book about the legends of Prythian opens to a page where the heroic deeds of ancient warriors are painted in vivid colors.

As you read aloud, your voice smooth and soothing, Nyx's eyelids begin to flutter gently. You notice his weary smile as he listens. The adventures of the day transforming into the adventures in the pages. Gently, almost instinctively, you begin to caress his hair. Smoothing it back from his forehead in a tender, rhythmic motion. It's a peaceful scene, the kind of simple, heartfelt moment that often goes unnoticed in the bustling life of the Night Court.

Unknown to you his Uncle Azriel stands at the doorway having arrived to pick up Nyx. He pauses there, a silent observer, taken aback by the tranquility and warmth of the tableau before him. His task had been simple. He was to retrieve Nyx and bring him home but the scene he encounters tugs at something deep within him. A longing for such unguarded peace.

Azriel watches as Nyx's breathing deepens, the sweet child drifting closer to sleep with each gentle brush of your hand. Your care for Nyx, so natural and affectionate, strikes a chord in Azriel. He's seen many facets of life. So many forms of relationships and bonds but the simplicity and purity of this moment resonate with him profoundly.

He remains there at the threshold hesitant to interrupt the moment. He was captivated by the gentleness of your interactions with Nyx. The world he usually inhabits—one of shadows and secrets—feels miles away from the soft warmth of this sunlit room. In this pause Azriel realizes that his task isn't just about escorting Nyx. It's about respecting and appreciating the sacred, everyday magic that people like you bring into Nyx's life.

Eventually though the story comes to an unfortunate end, and you close the book before looking down at Nyx to see him fully asleep. A contented expression on his young face. As you carefully consider how to wake him Azriel finally clears his throat softly announcing his presence.

You look up, startled slightly, your eyes meeting his for the first time. There's a moment of mutual acknowledgment. A silent appreciation for the scene he's just witnessed. An understanding that while your worlds may be different the care you show to Nyx bridges them beautifully. Azriel steps into the room. His movements gentle as he did not want to disturb the serene atmosphere you've created.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him," Azriel says quietly. His voice carrying a warmth that surprises even him. "He obviously treasures these moments with you."

"You're welcome. It's truly a pleasure teaching him," you reply with a warm smile. Your eyes reflecting genuine affection for Nyx.

As you gently wake Nyx his eyes flutter open gradually clearing as they adjust to the presence of another in the room. When he spots Azriel standing quietly by the door a bright, sleepy smile spreads across his face. He quickly scrambles to his feet, excitement replacing any remnants of sleepiness.

"Uncle Az!" Nyx exclaims. His voice filled with delight as he runs into Azriel's open arms. Azriel catches him effortlessly before lifting him into a warm hug. They share a moment, uncle and nephew reunited, their easy laughter filling the room. You grin recognizing him as the infamous Azriel in Nyx’s life.

Then as if struck by a sudden realization Nyx turns back towards you with a look of proud excitement lighting up his features. With a firm grip on Azriel's hand he pulls him closer to you and announces, "This is Miss Y/N, my favorite teacher ever!" His voice carries through the room filled with genuine admiration and joy.

Azriel's gaze shifts to you. A slight tension beneath his calm demeanor as he processes Nyx's enthusiastic introduction. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, his voice steady but softer than usual, a subtle undercurrent of nervousness mingling with his words.

You smile warmly, extending your hand in greeting. "I've heard a lot about you, Azriel. Nyx tells me you're quite the hero," you say. Your tone light and inviting.

Azriel takes your hand and for a moment his usual composure falters under your gaze. He's momentarily taken aback not just by the warmth of your smile but by the unexpected impact of your presence. She's beautiful, he thinks, and kind... The realization that he's slightly awestruck surprises him. He finds himself momentarily lost for words.

"And I've heard you've been learning about heroes in your lessons with Nyx," he manages to say his voice carrying a hint of warmth that rarely surfaces. Nyx obviously pleased with the exchange claps his hands excitedly.

"Can we all walk back home together?" Nyx asks looking up at both of you with hopeful, bright eyes, “Please!” He adds in for good measure as if you weren’t going to immediately say yes to him.

"Of course, Nyx," Azriel responds after looking to you for confirmation.

You nod, gathering your belongings, and the three of you step out into the cool evening of Velaris. As you walk Nyx fills the air with chatter about his day seamlessly weaving together his two worlds with tales of butterflies and ancient warriors. Azriel listens with a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His initial nervousness easing as he's drawn into the simple joy of the moment. His thoughts linger on you, intrigued, and unexpectedly moved by the genuine connection forming between you, Nyx, and himself. A beautiful end to an enriching day.

As the three of you begin your walk back through the twilight streets of Velaris the usual calm that Azriel embodies seems to waver slightly. He is typically a figure of stoic composure, his presence both commanding and elusive shadowed by the mysteries of his duties as the Spymaster. However, today, as he walks beside you, something is distinctly different.

Azriel's steps are measured. His usual fluid grace tempered by a hint of uncertainty. His glances towards you are quick, almost cautious, as if he's trying to decipher an unfamiliar script. The conversation flows easily around Nyx's enthusiastic chatter about his day but each time you turn your attention directly to Azriel a subtle tension flickers across his features.

"You really have a wonderful way with Nyx," you say hoping to bridge the gap with kindness. "He's always so excited to share what he's learned with you."

Azriel nods. A slight flush visible beneath the dusky hue of his skin. "Thank you," he murmurs as his voice is softer than usual. "It's... it's good to see him so happy. You do a lot for him."

The simplicity of your interactions, the easy smiles and gentle teasing you offer to Nyx, resonate with Azriel in a way that is both heartening and unnerving. He's unaccustomed to feeling this way—unsettled yet drawn in, eager yet shy. His hands though normally steady and sure whether wielding a weapon or a shadow clench slightly at his sides betraying his internal struggle.

As Nyx runs ahead a little, bursting with energy as he recounts another part of his day, Azriel takes a moment to compose himself. He glances at you again. This time holding your gaze a moment longer than before. The vulnerability rarely seen by others is palpable now as it was a quiet admission of his nervousness.

"I'm... not usually this unsure," Azriel confesses quietly almost to himself. "But there's something about these moments…. seeing Nyx so at ease with you. It's more comforting than I anticipated."

Your response is a gentle smile, one that acknowledges his admission without pressing further. It's a smile that seems to say you understand that the quiet spaces between words can be filled with kindness, not just silence.

The rest of the walk continues with a softer ease. A budding respect forming amidst the shared glances and the fading light of day. Azriel's initial nervousness slowly ebbs away instead replaced by a quiet appreciation for the unexpected warmth this evening has brought into his usually guarded world.

As the three of you approach the grandeur of the House of Wind, the towering structure casts long shadows over the cobblestone paths. It’s presence as awe-inspiring as it is imposing. Nyx who was still bubbling with energy despite the day's adventures, rushes ahead. Clearly he was eager to recount his tales to Feyre and Rhysand. You pause at the entrance. The vast doors open as if welcoming back its prince.

"It's been a wonderful day, Nyx," you say, giving him a soft hug. "Don't forget to draw that butterfly we talked about!"

"I won't, Miss Y/N!" Nyx promises. His voice echoing slightly in the vast entryway. He turns and dashes inside as his laughter lingered in the air.

You turn to Azriel with a smile gracing your lips. "Thank you for letting me share part of your evening. I should head back home now."

Azriel’s expression shifts. Concern etching his features. "It’s getting late," he observes while glancing at the skies, now painted with the deep blues and purples of dusk. "Please, allow me to walk you back to your home. The streets can be less than forgiving at this hour."

You pause appreciating his concern but ready to reassure him of your safety. "That’s very kind of you, Azriel, but it’s no worry. I know these streets well," you say as you turned to make your way down the path.

Before you can take more than a few steps a subtle but firm presence stops you. Looking down you see one of Azriel’s shadows has stretched out across the path in front of you almost playfully barring your way. It's a gentle unspoken plea that catches you by surprise echoing Azriel’s silent wish for you not to go alone.

Azriel takes a step forward. His gaze earnest. "I would truly feel better if I could ensure your safe return. Please," he adds. A rare hint of vulnerability in his voice that you hadn't expected.

Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes and touched by his quiet insistence you nod to him with a smile spreading across your face. "Alright, Azriel, if it means that much to you then I’d welcome the company," you agree. The warmth in your tone matching the softness in his eyes.

"Thank you," he replies visibly relieved. He quickly steps inside to ensure Nyx is settled and returns to you with a more relaxed demeanor ready to accompany you.

As you and Azriel begin the walk back to your home the streets of Velaris are bathed in the gentle glow of the stars and softly lit lanterns casting an enchanting light over the cobblestones. The atmosphere lends a serene backdrop to the conversation that begins to unfold between you.

"You know, Nyx speaks so highly of you," you start by breaking the initial silence with a warm tone. "He's always so excited after spending time with you. You must have some exciting tales from your duties."

Azriel chuckles softly. A sound so serene that it seems to dance in the night air. "Nyx has a way of making everything sound more thrilling than it might actually be. But yes, there are times when my duties hold some... intrigue." He pause, as if weighing what to share. "Mostly, I'm just ensuring that the court and our lands are safe. It's not always as adventurous as Nyx might depict."

"And what about when you're not cloaked in shadows and mystery?" you ask genuinely curious about the man beside you beyond his role as the Spymaster.

A hint of surprise flickers across Azriel's face. Surprised yet pleased by the interest you’re showing in him. "I enjoy solitude, usually. Reading, training... Though I have a fondness for sword making. It’s a craft that requires precision and patience much like my usual work but with a more tangible, creative result."

"Sword making? That’s fascinating," you remark smiling at the thought. "It must be rewarding to create something so intricate and vital."

"It is," he agrees. His voice softening ever so slightly. "And what about you? What do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

You nod before reflecting on your simple pleasures. "I love hiking and just watching nature. There’s something peaceful about observing the natural world. Just seeing how it exists so beautifully without any need for interference."

The conversation flows naturally from there. The earlier apprehension melting into a mutual appreciation for each other’s hobbies and life outside of official duties. As you talk Azriel’s steps seem to synchronize with yours. His presence an incredibly comforting shadow by your side.

When you finally reach your doorstep the city around you has quieted even further. The only sounds being the distant murmur of the Night Court's nightlife and the gentle rustling of leaves. Azriel pauses, standing just a bit closer than before. His usually guarded demeanor dimmed under the starlight.

"Thank you for allowing me to walk you home," he says. His voice sincere and gentle as if reflecting the calmness of the evening.

"It was my pleasure," you respond, finding yourself reluctant to end the conversation. "I enjoyed our talk, Azriel. It’s nice to see the person behind the shadows."

He smiles. A true smile that reaches his eyes making them sparkle with a rare lightness. "I did as well. More than I expected. Perhaps we could do this again, maybe take a hike together?"

"I’d like that," you agree. Your heart light with the promise of future conversations, of shared paths both literal and metaphorical.

"Good night, Miss Y/N. Take care," Azriel says as he steps back ready to meld back into the shadows from which he came.

"Good night, Azriel. And thank you… for everything tonight," you call after him. A smile still playing on your lips as you watch him disappear into the night. The connection between you both stronger and sweeter for the shared walk under Velaris’ starlit sky.

In the days that follow Azriel finds himself inventing reasons to visit your classroom or accompany Nyx to his lessons more often than strictly necessary. Each visit, purportedly to check on Nyx’s educational progress or to discuss scheduling with you becomes a cherished opportunity for him to engage in brief, yet meaningful conversations with you.

Each encounter, ostensibly casual, subtly deepens his affection and admiration for you. He begins to notice the small details: the way your eyes light up when discussing a new teaching method, the gentle patience with which you guide Nyx through difficult lessons, and the enthusiasm that bubbles up when you talk about your nature hikes. Azriel who was typically reserved and composed finds himself drawn into your world of vibrant enthusiasm and heartfelt dedication.

One afternoon as Azriel stands somewhat hidden by the doorway of your classroom just like he did that first day he met you observes a particularly touching scene. Nyx, having mastered a particularly tricky spell, turns to you with a triumphant grin. You laugh, your joy as vivid as the sparkle in Nyx's eyes. He swears your laughter seems to light up the room.

Watching this Azriel feels a warmth spread through him. A warmth that has little to do with the sun filtering in through the windows. It’s in this simple, unguarded moment that he realizes his feelings for you have deepened beyond mere admiration. He's not just falling for your kindness towards Nyx but also for the genuine spirit and infectious joy you bring into every interaction.

As he steps away from the doorway with a thoughtful smile playing on his lips Azriel knows that what he feels is something profound and undeniable. Your spirit which was so vibrant and full of life calls to him in a way that no one else ever has. And as he walks away with his shadows trailing behind him he’s certain of one thing. He wants to explore where this connection might lead not just for Nyx's sake but for his own heart’s as well.

After ensuring that Nyx was safely back at the House of Wind you begin to make your way back towards your home. The day's light is waning casting long shadows that stretch across the cobblestone streets of Velaris, adding a mystical allure to the city’s evening charm.

As you step forward, the sound of your footsteps is a soft echo in the quieting city. You're lost in thought pondering the pleasant interaction with Nyx and looking forward to the solitude of your evening walk home. However, before you can get far you hear Azriel’s voice calling out from behind you.

“Wait, please!” His tone carries a blend of urgency and hesitation that halt’s you in your tracks.

You turn around surprised to see him approaching quickly. His usually composed demeanor replaced by a slight breathlessness. The shadows that always linger around him seem to pulse in sync with the heightened beat of his heart.

Azriel catches up to you. His expression earnest. “I just wanted to ask properly,” he starts, his voice steadying as he meets your gaze. “Would you join me for a hike this evening? There’s a trail not far from here that’s especially beautiful in the evening light. I think you’d really enjoy the views, and...” He pauses before taking a breath reassuring himself, “I would really enjoy the company.”

Your smile deepens, touched by his sincerity and the vulnerable way he presents his request. The softening of his features and the hopeful look in his eyes paint a picture of a man stepping beyond the shadows that define him.

“I would love to, Azriel,” you reply warmly. Your voice filled with genuine excitement. “It sounds like a perfect way to end the day.”

Relief washes over Azriel’s face. His usual stoic mask giving way to a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he says as if a weight was lifting from his shoulders. “Shall we meet at the edge of the city in half an hour?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you agree already anticipating the quiet beauty of the trail and the shared moments ahead.

As you both part ways to prepare for the evening hike the anticipation of the upcoming adventure brings a new spring to your step. Azriel turns back once more watching you walk away, his heart lighter. He realizes just how much he’s looking forward to exploring not only the natural wonders of Velaris but also the potential of a new and blossoming relationship with you. The thought brings that rare and hopeful smile to his lips. One that he carries with him as he disappears into the shadows to ready himself for the evening.

ACOTAR Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lilah-asteria

[admirxation]

彡 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦. Levi is on a business trip and misses his partner, missing all the fun they had, so they have an intimate phone call together.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — afab!reader x husband!Levi Ackerman, 18+ smut mdni, porn with little plot, modern au, established relationship (f/m), terms of endearment (sweetheart is used often), phone sex, male and female masturbation, nipple pinching, fantasising, dirty talk, orgasms, and cum.

Levi’s new job had come with many perks—higher pay and more vacation days—but there was still one huge disadvantage that affected both of you; it was eating at too much of his time, the personal time he wanted with you. The distance gnawed, equally, at you both with how he had to take frequent business trips that stopped his usual presence around the house, and even if he wasn’t that far away, you would still miss him more than anything when he had to stay a few nights at some hotel. These trips were just a constant catalyst for mutual yearning.

You missed the quiet intimacy of waking up beside him and seeing his messy hair, the gentle kisses you two would share throughout the day with soft touches that often lingered; even after years of marriage, you two still wanted one another like the early days of younger dating. Now, with the business trips in the equation, you were frequently sleeping alone in the night, with cold and empty bedsheets being your lacklustre company as his side remained empty.

However, lucky for you, Levi would always make time to give you a quick call before he would go to sleep, no matter how drained he was after a long day, checking up on you was his priority before ending the day. It didn’t matter how heavy his eyes were or how many yawns that would interrupt the flow of his sentences, you were always going to get that call. You would constantly tell him to go to sleep, and not worry, but that pleading just made you sound like a broken record with how many times he denied your worries and spammed the call button; it wasn’t like the man got much sleep anyway before these business trips, so might as well use the insomnia as an advantage in your relationship.

Just like previous nights, you were laying on your soft cotton bedsheets, pressing the phone close to your ear as you savoured every word he shared with you; smiling to yourself as you looked at the ceiling and got taken into the musicality of it as your finger twirled strands of your hair.

“Hm, when are you coming back?” you asked, not bothering to hide the evident desperation that lingered at the end of your every word.

“Tomorrow night, and thank god for that,” you smiled at his words, “but… I don’t want you waiting up on me, I’ll probably get back very late.”

There was a shared, mutual, laugh that softly filled both of your rooms over the phone, a recognition that you weren’t going to listen to his advice; similar to how he never listened to yours—the perfect stubborn couple.

“When have I ever not waited for you? You know I will be up to greet you… Even if I have to wait until the a.m.”

A low vibration came from his throat as he let a breathy laugh out, from your stubborn attitude, finding it endearing how you shared the same want he had for you.

“I do admire your patience,” he said with his voice now dripping into something sultry, dripping thick and sweet like sticky maple syrup.

The tension, between you two, was palpable and thick enough that someone could slice right through it; you both wanted one another in ways that transcended written and verbal description. It tugged at both of you, as your breath hitched with your closed eyes and felt a magnetic pull you had with him as liquid heat ran through your veins for him. You pressed your fingertips on the cold material of your phone case, letting the box be snug against your ear, just wishing it was his skin beneath your fingertips, instead of the cold glass pressed onto you.

“I’ve been thinking about you nonstop while here, you know,” he uttered through a deep breath as his voice dropped even lower with his adam apple bopping to adjust to the depth of his tone, each of his words laced with an unmistakable and insatiable need for you. Even if you were going to see each other tomorrow, he wanted you so bad… right now. “Every damn meeting, every annoying client, and every time I’m supposed to be doing paperwork… Ugh, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

Your lips curved into a smile as heat unfurled in your chest, humming in response.

“Oh, I’m curious what exactly you’ve been thinking about,” you stated with a playful and tantalising expression, both of you waiting in anticipation for this teasing game to finally begin and play out, every nerve alight as you both continued to speak.

There was a comfortable pause, long enough for Levi to reach around the plethora of his imaginations that contained you in every situation, returning to you with a seductive whisper that made you wrap around his little finger; consuming and pulling you in further.

“I think about waking up next to you… feeling how warm you are against me. I miss the ways your eyes light up whenever you’re lost in conversation with me, and seeing that beautiful smile,” you could honestly feel that smile he had on his face, “but mostly… I think about the feel of your skin and body underneath my fingertips, your warm breath against my neck, and how gorgeous you are underneath me… Especially with those cute little gasps you do when it feels, just, right.”

Those words sent a flush of crimson racing across your cheeks, every nerve buzzing with electricity as warmth pooled within your body and made your inner thighs subconsciously rub together, hanging on to every word that came from his mouth. Your breath came out fractured with a soft exhale, feeling anticipation and want as that tingling sensation within your core started to develop deeper; arousal soon following the tingling wake. 

“I’m curious… What would you do if you were here, at home, right now?” you whispered on the phone.

“God… What wouldn’t I do,” he said under his breath with a raw edge that left little to the imagination, “you really wanna know, sweetheart?”

“Hence I asked,” you teased back.

“Come on, no need to act all dumb, you know exactly what I would do if I was in that bed with you… right now… and I know for a fact that when I’d be done with you, your thighs would be quivering and you’d be whimpering for more,” you loved his overt confidence when he dirty talked like this with you.

You felt a throbbing heartbeat pounding and pulsating through you, your heart rate quickening at his words as that warmth continued to spread throughout your body and trickle down your core; closing your eyes as you swallowed a quiet gulp when remembering the many nights, you had together. Those nights when Levi made you his, leaving you gasping, quivering, and in such a pretty mess; missing that indulgent sweet pain from this thick tip of his cock that would kiss against your cervix, that memory of his dick stretching you out is a constant focal point that you mind couldn’t let go of. You were in such a hazy daze as the coil within your core started to knot inside your lower stomach, your toes curling to your graphic memory your mind erratically kept bringing you back to.

“Oh, I do know what you’re capable of… but I would still like to hear what you would do to me… Come on, I love it when you get creative.”

“Aren’t you a dirty girl tonight,” he released a low and teasing chuckle, his words painted with playful tantalisation that made that heat inside of you extrapolate to deeper arousal, desperate for the knotted heat inside of you to find self-release.

“Please, I really want to know,” you pleaded softly, and that was something Levi could never resist.

“Okay, since you’re such a good girl,” he paused for a moment to keep you right on the edge, “Well… I would start by kissing your neck.. and I’d make sure my lips trail up to your favourite sweet spot… you know… the one that makes you melt… just for me.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed in response through your bitten lip, your thighs continuing to rub together as you felt the lace fabric of your underwear already start to soak; feeling it form a wet patch that pressed against your bare skin.

“And, of course, I would leave a few bites, a few hickies… Since you love it when I mark you, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Yeah… I do, Levi.”

“Hm, don’t I know my girl well,” he teased, “Hey sweetheart… what are you wearing? Right now.”

“Just a dressing gown at the moment.”

There was a dip in his breathing pattern at your response: “Please, please, tell me you’re wearing nothing underneath it,” he practically begs with released deep breaths, his hand already starting to smooth down his abs and into his boxers; rubbing up and down his large length that was tightly pressing against the fabric of his underwear.

“Yeah… nothing, whatsoever,” you smirked.

He released a fractured and pleasurable pant: “Good, makes it easier for my next request… Can you take it off for me?”

You soon followed his ask, letting the silk unwrap to expose your soft skin to the cool air that breezed amongst you, lying on top of it and waiting for his next step to appease his mind.

“Now… I want you to touch your chest, can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Your mind started to fog at his intimate request, letting your hand cup the swell of your breast and letting your fingers trickle up to slide over your sensitive nipple; releasing a broken and fragmented breath as you watched it rise into a peak before giving it a gentle pinch that dominoed into a whimper escaping from your lips. Your heard Levi’s deep and aroused pants, getting turned on and wetter as you heard his constant utterings: “You sound so sexy” and “Keep going,” that was accompanied by his laboured breaths from him rubbing his hardened cock to the sound of your sweet moans that seemed like it was a copy and pasted straight of porn.

“Mm, tell me how it feels.”

“It f-feels so good… but it would feel much b-better if it was you touching me, Levi,” you said through your pleasurable stutters.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “if I was there, I’d leave so many kisses on those pretty tits… I miss touching and squeezing them, they’re so warm and soft… Do you miss my touch?”

“So much.”

“How much?”

“I-I can’t even put it into words, Levi.”

Through a groan, he called out to you after his mind trailed in deep thought about how much he wanted you.

“Can you touch yourself for me, I wanna hear how turned on you are,” he expressed with an alluring confidence.

You felt a deepened shade of blush dust on your cheeks, your core continued to throb as that coil within you continued to knot, getting yourself so worked up over him. With shaky hands, you set the phone down and put him on speaker, placing it beside you before you let your fingers trail further downwards to delve underneath the waistband of lace, your fingers plunging further down to feel the slick that had puddled against the fabric. Your fingers traced over your wet folds, before collecting the tips of your fingers in directed swirls on your desperate clit, it is so sensitive and begging in its basked warmth.

“Imagine it’s me touching you… Making you feel good and needy,” he whispers his seductive mutters with thick desire as he hears your breathing deepen and quicken, “I’m just imagining how you’d squirm underneath my touch; would you love that?”

“Yes,” you replied with a sharp gasp.

The soft texture of your fingertips kept swirling along your puffy cluster of nerves, the sound of his thick and velvety voice taking on memories of warmth and electric passion. You let his voice fill the room with his sultry suggestive words, letting your fingers slip against you and your other hand travelling upwards to tweak at your hardened nipple; a collection and wave pool of foggy overstimulation erupt into moans from your glossy lips. Your breaths continued to come out as sharp, sudden, bursts with his voice curating a heightened spike of pleasure that flowed within you as you felt how wet you were along your fingers.

“Mm, the things I would do to feel that pretty pussy right now,” he expressed through a muffled moan as he continued to rub in steady motion, “I remember how you look so beautiful when you’re bouncing on my cock, I love watching you moan and especially when you kick your head back when it’s too much.”

“Ahh, nnghh, I wanna feel you so bad.”

A tantalising chuckle travelled through the speaker of your phone, he felt so smug and confident with how you were a whimpering, puddled, mess for him; he loved it when you were left like this, so vulnerable and needy for him.

“When I’m back from this trip, the first thing I’m gonna do is fuck you senseless. Nnghh~ All night long until you can’t take it anymore.”

He promised as he continued to fist his throbbing, erect, cock; his reddened and sensitive tip already dribbling precum and sliding down his surrounding slender fingers. Groaning at the sound of your sharp and desperate gasps that snapped out of you.

With shaky relief, two digits trailed down the line of your soaking labia, dragging them until gently pushing the dual pair into your aching cunt; dragging out a lewd and sensual moan as you pushed them deeper, feeling your walls grip onto the lines and bends on your fingers.

“Moan my name for me, sweetheart, please.”

“Yes, Levi,” you breathed out in hazy desire as you squeezed your eyes shut, “I want you so bad, so fucking bad, Levi.”

“Me too, keep going, keep touching yourself and imagine it’s my touch.”

His hand continued to drag up and down his length, not being shy to pant and groan down the phone as he kept choking out constant repetitions of your name that was laced on his tongue like a chant. He was so desperate for his distance to be over; it didn’t matter that by this time tomorrow, you would be together again because he wanted you now.

He let the splutter of precum darken his boxers as he continued to squeeze gently with the right amount of pressure, remembering the feeling of your tight and snug pussy spasm around him when you came, loving it when you quivered your bottom lip when you were about to orgasm and wrap your legs around him in your shivered release.

“Ah, keep saying my name, please, I love it when it comes from you.”

“Levi, mmm, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, Levi.”

“Can you go faster for me?”

The rhythm of your stiffened fingers quickened, continuing to let his name continuously fall from your tongue like a prayer, your pretty moans and laboured breaths causing his cock to twitch as he rubbed harder and quicker to match your fingering pace.

You continued to tweak at the hardened peaks on your chest, getting wetter and fluttering your heavy eyelids as you heard his constant and appreciated praises and groans.

“I wanna fill that pretty pussy right up, ahh~, make you beg for more and more.”

“Ahh~ ahhh~ ahh~”

You were nothing but a babbling mess the more he spoke to you about his fantasies, making it easy to lose yourself as you continued to fuck yourself with your own fingers.

“You sound so sexy, sweetheart,” he breathed out as he slightly bucked his hips upward and thrusted into his clasped hand, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut as he muffled groans through his chewed lips, “I can tell you’re close, come on, let go, just for me.”

“Oh, fuck!”

You gasp out with a heightened pitch, letting out a breathy cry as your orgasm takes over your senses; that coil within you unravelling and snapping out in your orgasmic release. Whimpering as you rose out of the slow crashing wave that had consumed you; looking down at your painted inner thighs from your slick over your soft skin, taking in a final and desperate breath of cold oxygen as you rode out your high.

It wasn’t long after hearing that pornographic and sensual moan that Levi soon followed suit, matching you with his own guttural groan with how he squeezed and clasped his hand down before a thick spurt of white released and spat out, pouring down his fingers.

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, sweetheart,” he said through deep pants that separated his words.

“Can’t wait myself, Levi.” 

taglist: @localkiss @wintrrxxo @sleazymac-n-cheesy -> if you want to be tagged in future works, check out my tallest

a/n: I've been obsessed with Levi since I was 13 and this brainrot is an everlasting one lmao. I hope you enjoy this and if you love levi as much as me, I am working on a modern au series for him, my commissions are open if you're looking for something more personalised AND I am working on kinktober prompts where there will definitely be some Levi content there. Love y'all *mwah mwah*

[dee-writes-smut]

DAFFODILS (Chapter One)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY The Spring Court has gone to shit, and while you would normally be able to tolerate it, the new discovery that you were pregnant pushes you to the gates of The Autumn Court and unknowingly into Eris' arms.

CONTENT WARNINGS pregnancy, Eris being a slight douche (you know how it is yall), violence (reader is kicked in the stomach), and mentions of Tampon (Tamlin).

AUTHORS NOTE who's excited for the kick-off of yet another series? I am! Of course, I had to start an Eris series, I love him too much not to! Strap in, darlings, I have a feeling this is going to be a long one.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The once vibrant Spring court had gone to shit, a shadow of its former glory. Tamlin, the once revered and compassionate High Lord, had vanished, abandoning his people to suffer in the decay his negligence had allowed to fester.

Amid the desolation, there were attempts to salvage what remained of the Spring Court. Lucien's name surfaced as one who strove to preserve our home. I recall his desperate sacrifice on Calanmai, offering himself to Ianthe in a futile bid to rescue us. He still occasionally visits, perhaps clinging to a hope that he might stumble upon signs of revival, our High Lord restored to his former benevolence. Yet each return only reinforces the stark reality of our decline, leaving him unsurprised by the sight of our dwindling realm.

And now, here I stand, just beyond the borders of the Autumn Court, clad in nothing but the ragged remnants of my escape, imploring the impassive sentries to grant me sanctuary within their walls. They offer no response, their stoic countenances unmoved as I plead and weep at their feet.

In my disheveled state, I must present a pitiful sight—my attire threadbare and stained, my once-glamorous countenance marred by streaks of dirt and smudged cosmetics, my limbs adorned with bruises like macabre adornments.

As I teeter on the brink of desperation, a voice cuts through the stillness, emerging from the depths of the forest to my right. The guards snap to attention at its sound, their posture stiffening even further, if such a thing were possible, in deference to its commanding presence.

"What is the meaning of this?" The voice, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade, belonged to a man with cascading locks of fiery hair, who strode forth from the underbrush with an air of regal authority.

Gods, he was a vision to behold. Despite the earthy stains marring his attire and the tousled state of his tunic sleeves, he exuded an otherworldly allure.

"A mere denizen of the Spring Court, attempting to beg her way into our domain, my lord," one of the guards grumbled, offering a curt bow before callously nudging me aside with his boot. I winced as the blow landed squarely in my stomach.

"And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing, you imbecile!" The fiery-haired man's voice dripped with disdain as he strode forward, confronting the offending guard with palpable fury. "Can you not discern her condition, you fool? She carries life within her."

My heart lurched as I instinctively cradled my abdomen, a protective gesture born of maternal instinct. Though every fiber of my being yearned to retaliate against the guard's callousness, I forced myself to breathe deeply, refusing to succumb to the animalistic urges that society expected of Spring Court members in these desperate times.

"Are you alright?" the man inquired, his amber eyes ablaze with a captivating mix of concern and authority, their gaze so intense that it stole the very air from my lungs.

"I'm… I'm fine," I managed to utter, brushing aside the tangled strands of hair obscuring my face and inhaling deeply to steady my frayed nerves.

"I must apologize for the behavior of my soldier. Rest assured, appropriate measures will be taken, my lady," the man assured me, his smile radiant as he inclined his head with graceful deference. His charm nearly brought a wry laugh to my lips.

"No need for such formalities," I replied weakly, the weight of my displaced status as a refugee gnawing at my throat like a persistent ache. But I steeled myself with the thought of my unborn child, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. "I am no longer a lady—well, not in the traditional sense, anyway."

"How so?" the man persisted, his expression a blend of curiosity and genuine concern, prompting me to draw my arms tighter around myself.

"I find it quite audacious for someone whose name I don't even know to ask such personal questions," I retorted, feigning a hint of indignation that rang hollow even to my own ears.

"Fair point," he conceded with a charming grin, though his adherence to formality still grated on my nerves. "Allow me to rectify that oversight. My name is Eris. Eris Vanserra, Heir to the Autumn Court," he declared, and I felt a strange mixture of relief and weariness wash over me at his introduction.

Eris. Lucien had spoken sparingly of his older brother during his time in the Spring Court, but whenever he did, a profound sense of affection tinged with melancholy colored his words. I shook myself from my reverie, extending a hand in a gesture of polite acknowledgement as I reciprocated with my own name. Eris repeated my name softly, testing it on his tongue, and my heart twinged at the striking resemblance in mannerism between him and Lucien, one so distant yet familiar, the other painfully close.

"Now," Eris began, his hands making a smooth, sweeping gesture that hinted at his readiness to delve deeper into the matter at hand, "what brings you to the borders of the Autumn Court, my lady?"

"The Spring Court is…" My voice faltered, and I let out a weary sigh, my hand instinctively resting on my still-flat stomach for comfort.

"It's gone to shit," he finished for me, his smirk sharp but not unkind.

"Well, I wouldn't have phrased it quite so bluntly, but yes," I responded, my fingers tracing small circles over my abdomen. "That place and its ruler are no fit environment for a child. Considering the proximity of your court, I was hoping I might find a new beginning here."

"What about the father?" Eris inquired, one eyebrow—a mirror image of Lucien's—arching skeptically.

I clear my throat awkwardly and look at my well-worn shoes. How does one tell the Heir to the Autumn Court that they are pregnant with his youngest brother's babe? How does one also explain how he is mated to another female, that they knew as soon as that brother found out about said babe, he would give up all hope to find his true mate in order to be there for his child?

"Not in the picture," I manage to say, my voice faltering slightly as I reach up to scratch the back of my neck, a gesture betraying my discomfort.

Eris hums, a low, thoughtful sound that vibrates with suspicion, his striking eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes my uneasy demeanor. The weight of his gaze feels like it could peel back the layers of my hastily constructed defenses, compelling me to confront truths I'd rather leave unspoken. Eris's scrutinizing gaze doesn't waver, and the silence stretches taut between us like a bowstring. "Not in the picture," he echoes thoughtfully, each word heavy with the promise of unasked questions.

I nod, feeling the weight of the moment settling around us. The air in the forest seems to hold its breath, the usual whispers of leaves and distant calls of woodland creatures falling into a hushed reverence. "And you must understand, my lord, that my child is my utmost priority," I assert with unwavering resolve, emphasizing his title with a hint of disdain, as if challenging the very foundations of our unequal stations.

The guards stationed behind me draw in sharp, anticipatory breaths, seemingly prepared for their lord to mete out swift retribution for my boldness. I steel myself against the expected blow, a silent rehearsal of defiance.

Yet, the expected strike does not materialize. Instead, Eris regards me with what could only be described as admiration. His gaze, intense and calculating, appraises me not as a threat, but as a formidable presence in my own right.

"Well, little fox," he begins, his voice carrying a playful undertone that belies the depth of his contemplation. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, his fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as if to physically underline his ponderings. "It appears you've presented quite the compelling argument for yourself here."

The use of "little fox" — a term perhaps meant to denote cunning and resilience — sparks a flicker of amusement within me, mixed with a surge of cautious optimism. His demeanor suggests a blend of challenge and respect, hinting at a dynamic that could evolve beyond mere formalities or supplications. This man before me is not just the heir to a court; he is a strategist weighing his next move.

"You seek shelter for yourself and the babe?" Eris inquires with a hint of slyness, as if to subtly test my resolve, though it's a point I've already made abundantly clear.

"Indeed," I retort sharply, refusing to waver under the weight of his penetrating gaze.

"Then shelter you shall have," he declares, pivoting on his heel to fix the guards with a stern glare. "You will allow her passage," he commands, his tone uncompromising. The guards, obedient to their lord's decree, quickly acquiesce, parting to allow me entry with a mere flick of Eris's wrist.

The heady scent of spices and autumnal freshness assaults my senses as I approach the threshold, beckoning me forward with its tantalizing allure. It's as if the very essence of this court implores me to embrace my true purpose, to seize control of my destiny without hesitation. The boldness of it all catches me off guard, stirring a sense of rebellion that courses through my veins like wildfire.

Pausing at the threshold, I find myself suspended between the tranquility of the wilderness behind me and the vibrant chaos of the court ahead. I hesitate, grappling with the weight of the choices that lie before me.

Eris slows his stride beside me, as if attuned to my uncertainty, and extends his arm—an offering both courteous and suggestive. His demeanor exudes confidence and assurance, as if he expects me to surrender to his lead without question.

But I refuse to yield to the expectations of courtly decorum. Chin held high, I meet his gaze with unwavering resolve, ignoring the disheveled state of my attire as I assert my independence. My feet remain firmly planted, refusing to advance until I am ready, on my own terms.

Eris's arm lingers in the air for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his features at my defiance. His amber eyes search mine, silently probing, yet beneath the scrutiny, I detect a glimmer of curiosity and… respect.

"I am quite capable of managing on my own," I declare, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within me.

His expression softens, and he nods, gracefully retracting his arm. "As you wish," he concedes, gesturing for me to take the lead as we finally step through the threshold together.

The walk through the streets of Autumn was like stepping into a painting come to life. The cobblestone pathways wound gracefully between quaint buildings adorned with intricate carvings and vibrant splashes of ivy. Overhead, colorful banners fluttered in the gentle breeze, their designs depicting scenes of seasonal splendor and courtly festivities.

Stands and stalls lined the streets, each one a miniature wonderland of treasures waiting to be discovered. From intricately woven tapestries to gleaming trinkets and baubles, the offerings were as diverse as they were captivating. Merchants called out to passersby in melodious voices, their wares displayed with care and pride.

The smells that wafted through the air were a symphony of sensory delights. Spices mingled with the scent of freshly baked bread, their fragrances intermingling in a tantalizing dance that made my mouth water. Roasted chestnuts crackled and popped over open fires, their warm, nutty aroma floating on the breeze alongside the sweet perfume of ripe fruit and fragrant flowers.

Eris's sudden change in direction pulled me from my reverie, my gaze following his lead as we approached a magnificent structure nestled within the heart of the Autumn Court. The Forest House loomed before us, its grandeur and mystique commanding attention as we drew nearer.

Surrounded by a wrought iron gate, the house stood as a bastion of elegance amidst the bustling streets. Tall trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches reaching out to embrace the ancient structure with a sense of reverence. Vines climbed the walls, their verdant tendrils weaving intricate patterns against the weathered stone.

The sight of the Forest House sent a shiver down my spine, a visceral reaction to the aura of power and mystery that seemed to emanate from its very core. It was as if the house held secrets untold, whispering tales of bygone days and forgotten legends to those who dared to listen.

"Wait!" I called out, the urgency in my voice halting Eris in his tracks. His steps faltered, and he turned to face me, a glint of amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes. The sunlight filtering through the canopy overhead cast dappled shadows across his features, lending an air of intrigue to his already enigmatic presence.

"Yes?" he inquired, his voice smooth and tinged with playful curiosity, his smirk hinting at secrets hidden just beneath the surface.

"What's going to happen to me? Where will I stay?" I blurted out, the fierce confidence I had summoned earlier dissipating like morning mist in the face of uncertainty. Nervously, I began to pick at my nails, the weight of the unknown pressing down upon me like a heavy cloak.

Eris regarded me with a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he had anticipated my question long before I had voiced it. "You will stay with me, of course," he replied simply, his voice carrying an air of nonchalance that belied the gravity of his words. There was a subtle confidence in his demeanor, a quiet assurance that spoke of his authority within the court.

I recoiled at his casual response, a surge of apprehension coursing through me. "But what about Beron? Won't he object to having a… a lowborn in his household?" I ventured cautiously, the weight of his father's disapproval looming like a specter in the back of my mind.

"Nonsense," Eris scoffed, his arms crossing over his chest in a dismissive gesture. "You are now a member of this court, and given your condition," he added with a subtle nod towards my abdomen, "it is only fitting that you reside in more suitable accommodations." His words were tinged with a hint of defiance, a silent challenge to anyone who would dare question his authority.

Despite his reassurances, doubt gnawed at the edges of my mind, uncertainty clouding my thoughts like a thick fog. "Absolutely not!" I protested vehemently, a surge of protectiveness coursing through me as I instinctively placed a hand over my stomach, as if to shield my unborn child from the absurdity of Eris's suggestion. "I refuse to stay in your chambers, Eris. It's… it's utterly preposterous."

Eris's eyebrow lifted slightly, his gaze holding a hint of amusement mixed with something darker. "Stubborn, aren't we?" he remarked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "But if you prefer to sleep on the streets, far be it from me to stand in your way."

His words, though seemingly casual, carried a sharp edge that hinted at the depth of his cunning. It was a subtle reminder of his position of power, a reminder that I was at his mercy whether I liked it or not.

I bristled at his thinly veiled threat, my jaw clenching as I met his gaze with a glare of my own. "You wouldn't dare," I challenged, though a flicker of uncertainty danced behind my eyes.

Eris's smirk widened, the glint in his amber eyes turning predatory. "Try me," he replied, his tone dripping with promise and menace in equal measure.

With a frustrated huff, I reluctantly relented, realizing that I was in no position to defy him. "Fine," I conceded through gritted teeth, my hand slipping from my stomach to clench into a fist at my side. "But don't expect me to thank you for it."

Eris's smirk softened into a smirk, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Who said anything about gratitude?" he mused, his voice low and husky. "I'm merely extending a courtesy to a fellow refugee."

His words were laced with sarcasm, a reminder that his generosity came with strings attached. It was a stark contrast to the charming facade he wore, a glimpse of the ruthlessness that lay beneath.

I swallowed hard, a bitter taste rising in the back of my throat as I followed him towards the Forest House. It was clear that my time in the Autumn Court would be far from easy, but as I glanced back at the crumbling ruins of the Spring Court behind me, I knew that I had no other choice.

As we reached the grand doors of the Forest House, Eris turned to me with a smirk. "Welcome to your new home, little fox," he remarked, his tone dripping with irony. "Try not to get too comfortable."

My brows furrowed at his words, suspicion creeping into my mind. "What's the catch?" I asked warily, narrowing my eyes at him.

Eris chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Though I do have one condition," he said, his smirk widening into a grin.

"And what is that?" I asked, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

"You must walk with me once a day for the duration of your stay," Eris declared, his tone teasing yet firm.

My jaw dropped in disbelief. "You're joking," I exclaimed, disbelief evident in my voice.

Eris's grin widened, his amber eyes dancing with amusement. "Do I look like I'm joking?" he retorted, his tone challenging.

I narrowed my eyes at him, a surge of defiance rising within me. "This is ridiculous," I protested, shaking my head in disbelief. "I won't be your captive audience."

Eris's expression softened, a hint of something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. "It's not about being captive," he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Consider it… a chance to explore the court, to clear your mind. Besides," he added with a smirk, "I could use the company."

I bristled at his suggestion, my pride warring with my better judgment. "And if I refuse?" I challenged, crossing my arms over my chest.

Eris's smirk widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Then you'll miss out on some truly breathtaking views," he replied, his tone teasing yet earnest.

I sighed in frustration, realizing that I was fighting a losing battle. "Fine," I relented, though the words tasted like ash on my tongue. "But don't expect me to enjoy it."

Eris's grin widened into a smirk, his eyes alight with amusement. "Oh, I have a feeling you'll come to enjoy it more than you think," he remarked cryptically, before turning to lead the way into the Forest House.

As Eris escorted me to the grand Forest House, his steps were measured, exuding an air of regal confidence that was unmistakably his. His fiery locks seemed to dance with each movement, and his amber eyes held a glint of mischief, hinting at the cunning that lay beneath his charming exterior.

Upon entering my chambers, Eris's gaze swept over the room with a critical eye, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I trust the accommodations meet with your approval, my lady?" he inquired, his voice smooth as honey but tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

I nodded, unable to suppress a smirk of my own at his thinly veiled jest. "They're quite lovely, thank you," I replied, matching his playful tone with one of my own.

Eris's smirk widened into a grin, his amusement evident in the curve of his lips. "Excellent," he remarked, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning away to survey the room once more.

As I explored my new surroundings, I couldn't help but notice Eris's watchful gaze following my every move. It was as if he were sizing me up, gauging my reactions to the opulence that surrounded us. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye, a depth of character hidden behind his charming facade.

Spotting the single daffodil on the table near the window, I couldn't suppress a chuckle at the sight. It was a quintessentially Eris gesture—playful yet meaningful, a subtle reminder of our earlier exchange. I picked up the note beside it, the elegant script a testament to Eris's attention to detail.

"I will be seeing you real soon, little fox. Wouldn't want you slacking off on our daily walks now, would we?" the note read, the teasing tone perfectly in line with Eris's mischievous nature. I couldn't help but smile at his audacity, the unspoken challenge sparking a flicker of excitement within me.

Setting the note back down, I turned to find Eris watching me with a knowing smirk, his amber eyes alight with amusement. "I take it you approve of my choice of decor?" he quipped, the smirk widening into a grin as he met my gaze.

I rolled my eyes playfully, unable to suppress a laugh at his antics. "It's certainly… unique," I replied, the hint of sarcasm in my tone mirroring his own.

Eris chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "I'm glad to hear it," he replied, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning away to hide the flush that crept across his cheeks.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd

[littlefireball]

ᴊᴏɴɢꜱᴀɴɢ|ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴜ*ᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴛʜ ʜᴀʀᴅ (ᴍ)

ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ x ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ x ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴏꜰ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴏʀɴʏ

ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ

ʟᴏɴɢ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴛʜʀᴇᴇꜱᴏᴍᴇ|ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ|ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ᴏʀɢᴀꜱᴍ|ʙxʙ|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴘʀᴇɢ|ᴅᴏᴍ & ꜱᴜʙ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.2ᴋ

"So, who first?" Jongho toys with the belt in his hand, flashing a wicked smile. His pheromones are intoxicating, sending you both into a frenzy of desire. The anticipation is palpable as you both yearn to be the one to succumb first, eager for him to ravage you relentlessly.

"We both want you…" you murmured, a blush coloring your face.

"Yeah, please." Yeosang chimed in.

Jongho caresses yeosang's waist, the gentle touch giving him goosebumps and moaning for more.

"You, an omega, how dare you to dominate my other omega, huh?"

"No, that's because I'm in my heat…"

"Oh, so you help her? Is that true?Yeosang, I need words."

"Ye…yes."

"It seems you two make friends, huh? You don't need me anymore?"

"No, of course no!"

"Is that so?"

Suddenly, without warning, he plunged straight into yeosang's hole, pushing it as far as it would go, causing him to let out a loud moan.

"Ahh please, jjong! We both need you."

"I know, I know." His tone was teasing, his fingers stroking yeosang's skin back and forth, but not moving.

"Want to be fuck? Y/N?"

"Yes, please."

"Say my name."

"Please, my alpha."

"Good." Jongho's hand slid down, his touch igniting a fire within Yeosang as he caressed him, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft. The gentle strokes sent shivers down Yeosang's spine, causing him to lean back against Jongho's chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Do you dominate her? Hm? Show me how you make love to her," Jongho whispered in Yeosang's ear, his lips brushing against his skin, teasing his sensitive spots. Pressing his chest against Yeosang's back, Jongho pushed him down, guiding him into your warmth.

"Oh fuck!" A simultaneous arch of your backs as Yeosang finally felt the exquisite sensation of being enveloped in heat.

"Fuck her with me," Jongho urged, planting a tender kiss on Yeosang's temple before thrusting deeply. Yeosang followed suit, his movements syncing with Jongho's, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your bodies.

"Ah~fuck~" Moans and cries filled the room as they moved in unison, your passion escalating with each thrust. Jongho's rhythmic movements created a symphony of desire, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the air. Yeosang, though not as large as Jongho, brought a different kind of intensity, each stroke sending a jolt of electricity through their bodies.

"Ah, yes, oh, God!" The room filled with the symphony of their pleasure, their voices blending in a chorus of ecstasy. Jongho quickened his pace, the sound of their bodies colliding, mixing with the slaps of flesh, creating a crescendo of desire. His balls slaps yeosang's ass while yeosang's cock keep rubbing your inner walls.

Their bodies move in perfect harmony, the intensity building with each passing moment. Your breasts bounce, cries fill the air, and Yeosang's eyes drink in the sight before him, a tableau of passion and desire.

"Ah!Ah!Ah!" Jongho presses firmly against Yeosang's waist, drawing you both closer as your chests meet, allowing him to penetrate deeper. With each rhythmic thrust, he leans in, creating a powerful motion that resonates through your body. You adjust your position, bending your legs to enhance the sensation, feeling Yeosang's breath on your face as you close your eyes to fully immerse yourself in the experience.

The weight of both men on top of you adds a hint of intensity, making it slightly challenging to catch your breath. You find yourself gasping for air, your throat feeling dry, yet the pleasure overrides any discomfort as your moans escape effortlessly.

"Keep going, jjong!" "Such a slut huh?" He spanks yeosang and leaves a red mark but not painful enough to make him scream. He bites his lips as everything is overwhelming. Your warmth and wetness wraps his cock so well while his hole is being filled with heat and excitement.

Both of their cocks twitch when they thrust so deep and so hard. It feels like Jongho wants to break through the limitations of both of you. Your hands are secured over your head while yeosang tighten with each thrust, the slight pain causing you to close your eyes tightly.

"Hmmm…" "Let me see how you make out." Yeosang listens to Jongho once more and kisses your lips. You open your mouth slightly, letting him slide into your mouth, your tongues rubbing against each other, exploring, licking, and sucking on each other's lips.

"How good you are." Jongho's thrusts grew more intense, eliciting a muffled cry from you that was quickly silenced by his kiss. His hands gripped Yeosang's waist firmly, leaving red marks on his smooth skin as the passion between them escalated.

As your lips parted, a shared scream filled the room, the intensity of your connection echoing off the walls. "Slow down, Jjong!" you managed to gasp, the overwhelming sensations leaving you breathless and dizzy. Yeosang too felt the rush of pleasure building within him, his body trembling as the desire reached its peak, a trail of fluid marking the intensity of the moment. The fluid secreted in his hole overflowed to the point where it slid along his thighs to the ground as his legs were shaking constantly.

"Cum and I'll slow down," Jongho's words are a tantalizing promise, pushing you both to the brink. You both reach climax and Yeosang cums all in your cunt and you juices also cream his cock fully. But it is not the end. With a swift motion, he lifts Yeosang and lays him back on the bed, his lips trailing down his neck in pursuit of his mutual climax.

"Ah~" Yeosang arched his back, wrapping his legs around Jongho, inviting him to delve deeper into their shared passion. The rhythmic motion of Jongho's thrusts reverberate through the room, the bed creaking in time with their fervor. Once more, Jongho's movements intensify, sending a surge of pleasure through Yeosang as he reaches the pinnacle of ecstasy.

"Oh shit!It hurts!" "Hold on, babe." Yeosang's muscles feel like they're being ripped apart, and the pain is unspeakable. Jongho's size grows even bigger, and he keeps pounding into the deepest part of his body. He kisses Yeosang's lips, biting each other fiercely, and there was an atmosphere of passion in the hot kissing scene. Their tongues were wildly entwined, and their kisses were no longer gentle, but filled with desire and fervor.

Not knowing how much time passed, but only knowing that Jongho keeps thrusting wildly, completely emptying the yeosang's body. Once again, he pulls yeosang up and sits him on his lap, stroking his buttocks back and forth. The softness of it makes him desire more, squeezing and stroking it from time to time.

Jongho's huge size is too much for him to bear, but at the same time, yeosang is so excited that every time rubbing and pushing as it sends a tsunami of heat all over his body. He looks at Yeosang's cock with erection and arches a satisfied smile.

"Wanna cum?" "Hmm…" He was already too dizzy to speak.

"Help him, Y/N." You, who have only been watching them and resting, are suddenly brought back to reality. Following his words, you sit obediently behind yeosang and touches Yeosang's slightly hard cock with your cold hand.

"oh fuck! Y/N." His breathing quickens with your movements. It started with your warmth, but now it's your frigid touch that's making him moan. Jongho increased the pace and intensity, and the stimulus simultaneously pushed Yeosang to climax again and cum all on your hand.

The sight of Yeosang climaxing and leaning on his shoulder in a pitiful manner shook Jongho's heart and all the heat rushed to his tip. He makes a hissing sound and after a few thrusts, he cums and leaves his mark on Yeosang's body.

"Good job, my boy. rest first, okay?" he softly strokes through yeosang's hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear before placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Yeosang nodded and closed his eyes, as if opening them would take all his strength. He lays back on the bed and watches as Jongho shifts to straddle you.

"So, you resting well?"

"Yes, please, I want you."

"How hard do you want me to fuck you?"

"Just fuck me as your doll, jjong." His ego is satisfied by your words and becomes even more strengthened. He lifts your chin and kisses you. Speaking of which,it seems to be the first time you've ever kissed each other. The inexplicable sensation brings tears to your eyes, and you wrap your arms around his neck, letting him take over control, robbing you of your sweetness and air.

He thrust into your cunt mixed with yeosang's sperm, a sensation he'd never felt before and one he was extremely addicted to. Your scent is not only peachy sweet, but also the scent of vanilla. Oh shit, he loves these scents so much. He totally loses control of your scents as he throws his head and thrusts very deep. No words can describe his craziness and speed; there is no gentleness but only raw emotion and endless lust.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!" That's what you can say and in your mind. You have no idea how many times he thrusts and how long the painful feelings take over you. His size seems to have become bigger than last time. You couldn't help but moan loudly to express your excitement and pleasure.

"You take me so well." His dirty words make you so dizzy. You open wide your thighs more to let him can fuck you harder and deeper. Your fingers are gripping the bed sheet and turning white. Your forehead is covered with sweat. The pain of him penetrating your most intimate space is a little too much for you to bear, but it's not as painful as it was before. You let him slam into your depths, pushing both of you further into orgasm.

"Jjong, I can't hold it anymore." "Then cum with me, my girl." These words make your heart erupt like a fountain of emotions, soaking every corner of your body. "AH fuck!" You lift your head when climaxing, but Jongho doesn't stop. The pheromones from both of you have been acting as fuel for his desire. "I can't get enough of you both." He picks you up and places you on top of yeosang, not leaving your genital cavities, and continues to thrust.

"Fuck her with me again, sang. i want to see you cum." jongho murmurs on your chest, dropping crushing kisses on your chest, licking over the hickey that yeosang has marked on you. Yeosang listens to him and carefully presses his cock against yours, feeling like he's going to break through your limits.

Now there is only a thin wall separating their cocks; they can feel each other's thrusts clearly. What a wonderful feeling it is. Jongho can watch you both moaning; Yeosang can feel your warmth wrap around his cock while watching his lover. For you, everything is overwhelming. Their breaths intertwine and their scents fill your nostrils; Jongho's movements are fast and powerful, causing you to groan; Yeosang's thrusts are not rough but the slow in and out teases you in the same way.

"Both of you are so delicious, so perfect for me." Three of you finally lose all of sanity and control in this nonstop and crazy sex. Not knowing when to stop or should I say none of you want to stop. Lust takes over your bodies, desire takes over your mind. Mating, Breeding, and Cumming are the only three things in your mind…

Luckily, the three of you remembered to bring Rocky and Aurora back after five more rounds.

-

Your bond with Yeosang had grown stronger and more comfortable since that day, a change that did not go unnoticed by the rest of the group.

"It looks like you two are getting along better," Yunho observed between bites of his buckwheat noodles. You both shared a smile in response.

"So, what have you been up to together?" San's unexpected question left you two momentarily speechless.

"Umm…just helping each other out when needed!" you replied with a chuckle, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. But suddenly, a wave of nausea hit you, causing your food to come rushing back up. You covered your mouth in a panic, trying to contain the unexpected regurgitation.

"Are you okay?" Yeosang asked, his voice laced with concern as he rubbed your back. In a strange turn of events, he too began to feel queasy. Unable to hold it in any longer, both of you rushed to the restroom and vomited, with Jongho following closely behind. He instinctively patted your backs, a gesture of comfort that seemed almost second nature to him.

"Are you two so close that you synchronize even when you're vomiting?" Wooyoung teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, nothing like that!" you quickly dismissed, trying to downplay the situation. But Jongho's next words caught everyone off guard.

"They just get pregnant at the same time," he said, causing a collective gasp from the group and they almost squirt.

And in that moment, it became clear why your relationship with Yeosang had improved so significantly.

tag list: @angelsaway

[lovebugism]

Bugggggg, my dear! I need to know what happens when Eddie climbs through that window with Gareth sisterrr!!!

thanks for being so patient while i wrote a part two! hope you like it!! — the one where eddie sneaks into his best friend's step-sister's bedroom, stealthy like a ninja tw for allusions to smut (2.7k, find part one here)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Eddie shows up at your house at eleven, even though you told him to be there at midnight.

He couldn’t wait the extra hour to see you. It felt like it was eons away — a whole lot more than just sixty minutes. After dealing all day in ninety-degree heat, he was aching to rest his tired bones next to yours. His thoughts of you weren’t even sinful — which isn’t something he can say very often. 

The way he yearned for you was innocent, palpable, and suffocating. Like honey or the summer sun. It was something sticky and sweet, nostalgic and boyish.

It’s why he parks three houses down, just like you asked him to, and why he scales the trellis of your bedroom window with all the finesse of a dog on roller skates. 

You left your light on for him like you promised— a glowing yellow let he climbs towards. Your window is open, too. Eddie gets all twisted up in your lace curtains when he finally reaches the second story. His ankle gets caught in the pane. He catches himself before he tumbles to the ground entirely, his palms melting into your carpeted floor.

Half-stuck in your window, Eddie’s wide eyes flit around your bedroom. You’re nowhere to be found, but some upbeat pop song plays on the radio on the dresser beside a shut door — the bathroom, maybe. 

“You are the dancing, young and sweet, only seventeen!” Your voice is muffled as you sing along to the words. You sound like sunshine in the middle of a cool summer night.

With the knowledge that he didn’t make a complete fool of himself in front of you or anybody else, he crawls the rest of the way in and stands in the middle of your pretty pink bedroom. 

It’s as girly as you are, filled with everything grownups convince children they’re supposed to hate when they get older — teddy bears, dolls, and other heart-sharped trinkets. Everything’s frilly and pale pink, delicate like you.

The door clicks open. Eddie’s eyes widen when you and a warm steam comes spilling out. The smell of roses and vanilla twirls out just like you do. Clad only in a too big Fleetwood Mac t-shirt, and with wet hair dripping down your back, you sing into your hair brush.

“You can dance! You can jive! Having the time of your life—” You cut yourself off when you realize Eddie’s standing in the middle of your bedroom. You don’t scream, but you feel sort of like your heart has stopped as your hand flies to your mouth. “Oh, my god!”

“Sorry!” the boy apologizes through his laughter, palms spread out ahead of him in surrender. “I’m— I’m sorry. I should’ve… I should’ve knocked.”

You’re still a bit too frightened to laugh at his joke. You bring your palm from your mouth to your racing heart and exhale a sigh of relief. “You weren’t supposed to be here until midnight.”

Eddie beams when you rush to turn down your music, only because you aren’t looking at him to see it. Instead of telling you he couldn’t wait that long to see you, he jokes, “Oh, is it not twelve yet? My watch must be an hour fast.”

“Or maybe you just don’t know how to tell time, Eighty-Six,” you tease with a bright grin.

Eddie’s brows raise beneath his curly bangs. His own smile curls at his pink lips at your harsh joke. It comes from a too-pretty face for him to take offense to it. 

He wraps you in his arms when you walk over to him. His palms spread along your hips as your arms wrap around his neck. He tries not to shiver when your fingers trace the wild curls at the base of his neck.

“Well, that’s not very nice of you, now is it, princess?” he asks in the same sarcastic tone.

“Or maybe you just really wanted to see me?” you follow up with an innocuous shrug and a hopeful glint in your eye.

Eddie scoffs. “That is very presumptuous of you, sweetheart.”

“It’s only presumptuous if I’m wrong— which I know I’m not, so…”

“You sound very sure of yourself,” he quips with narrowed eyes.

You meet his look with a grin. “‘Cause I can read you like a book, Eddie Munson.”

You rise on the tips of your toes, pressing yourself further into him with the intent to taste his lips. He stops you before you get the chance. 

His chin jerks back, though it’s not exactly intentional. With your chest more intently pushed against his own, he can feel much more of you than he’s used to. Your stiff nipples are crushed between both of your bodies. His brain short-circuits accordingly.

Eddie covers it up with a mischievous smile. “No bra?”

“It’s your fault,” you pout, not swayed by his teasing.

“Is it?”

You nod, wide-eyed like you’re all innocent. “You got here too early. I was gonna put on makeup and a pretty dress for you and everything…”

Though Eddie’s heart swells at the thought, he shakes his head in response. The bridge of his nose scrunches as his hands rise from your waist. His palms are warm along your blushing cheeks. 

“I like you better like this,” he confesses quietly.

“Really?” you ask with pinched brows.

He shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I love your glitter and skirts and your… everything, but… I don’t know. I think you look pretty like this, too.”

Your chest warms so suddenly, you think your heart might be melting. 

No one’s ever said anything like that to you before — not that you weren’t pretty, but that you were still pretty even when you aren’t trying to be. 

A heavy feeling swells behind your ribcage that makes you feel like crying.

“You don’t have to be so nice to me, you know?” you joke with a halfhearted laugh. “I’m already obsessed with you.”

His own chuckle spills from his pink mouth. “I’m being serious.”

“If you wanted a blowjob, you coulda just said—” 

Your grin is wide and mischievous, full of candor, as your hands leave his neck and fall to the silver buckle of his leather belt. The giddy smile fades when his fingers curl around your wrists to stop you. 

Eddie’s eyes fly open wide. His mouth falls softly agape, as though surprised by your forwardness, though he knows he should be used to it now. He stammers. “We don’t— I mean, we don’t have to—”

You step back like you’ve burned him. Your features flood in a similar horror. “Oh, sorry— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“It’s okay,” Eddie assures with a soft laugh to quell your worry. He chases you when you part from him and takes your wringing hands in his larger ones. “I know most guys sneaking into a girl’s room usually want one thing, so… It’s kinda my fault, actually.”

“And you don’t… You don’t want that?” you question with a furrow to your brow.

“No, I do! Trust me. I do, I just…” he trails off with a sigh. His chin tilts to his chest as he peers at you from beneath his lashes. There’s a twinkle in the deep chocolate of his eye. “I’d rather it be more romantic than, you know— than this.”

His hand motions somewhere beside him. You figure he’s referring to the scuff marks his sneakers left on your lace curtains.

You smile sheepishly as his wide palms engulf your own. “I wanna take things slow with you and… treat you right and everything…”

“That is very old-fashioned of you, Eddie Munson,” you croon lowly as you lean back into him. Your hands entwine when your chests push together all over again. His long fingers slot between yours as the tip of your nose traces the bridge of his.

“Maybe…” he hums in a sigh, the breath of it fanning over your chin. It smells like cigarettes and spearmint gum. “But also, if I’m gonna fuck you, I don’t want us to have to be quiet, you know?”

His eyes narrow with a mischievous squint when you part from him. You meet his smirk with a beam. 

“Like I said… Such a gentleman.”

You go in for a kiss, and this time he lets you. 

It’s much deeper than the one you shared behind the 7/11, but still just as pure. It’s full of honey and sunshine — your floral perfume and his muskier cologne — your candied breath and his nicotine-coated one. It’s filled with the innocence leftover from your lingering girlhood and his boyhood, both of which you’ve yet to grow out of.

It makes his mouth taste that much sweeter. It makes his lips that much softer. It makes you want to kiss the breath from his lungs, and it makes him want to swallow you whole.

—————

A breeze billows through the open window you forgot to close the night before. 

It smells like freshly cut grass and early morning dew and vaguely like teenage boy. It feels like silk as it rolls across your bed, though it’s cold enough to make you rouse. 

You feel the weight of Eddie Munson on your ribcage before you open your eyes to see him.

Your gaze is slow to clear, heavy with honey. You find the wild-haired boy snoozing on your stomach — long lashes brushing the apples of his cheeks, face smushed into your t-shirt, pink mouth agape to exhale soft snores against your ribs. The sight of him like this makes you feel a bit like you’re dreaming.

The two of you settled into bed some hours after midnight, equally fatigued after an intense bout of nonstop conversation. You’d been sharing a single pillow then, and trying very hard not to kiss him. 

“Wake me up before sunrise, will you?” he’d told you as his eyes drifted closed.

Your brows pinched together. “For what?” 

“So I can leave before everyone in your house knows I’m here,” the boy scoffed in a tired laugh. “Don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, you know?”

You didn’t know what he meant by that. But rather than ask him, your brain shouted its own understanding at you — a blinking neon sign that was virtually unmissable. 

He must not want to be seen with me, the voice tells you. Maybe this isn’t as serious as I was hoping it’d be. Maybe we just have the night together, and maybe I have to be grateful I got it at all.

As though he could read your mind, a half-asleep Eddie Munson patched together your breaking heart without trying. “Don’t want your parents to think I’m just trying to get in your pants or somethin’… Also I’m pretty Gareth would kill me if he knew I spent the night here.”

He exhales a weary chuckle, and you force yourself to do the same.

It was never about you, but rather about the lingering implication that looked rather daunting from afar. 

The town freak sneaks into the bedroom of the local princess, and it’s certainly not to slay some sleeping dragon. It was a headline waiting to happen. No one would believe you if you told them Eddie was more interested in the stories behind each of your stuffies than he was in what your body looked like under your clothes.

You drifted off alongside him, expecting at least one of you to rouse before the sun came up. You quickly found that waking up from the best night’s sleep of your life was practically impossible. And with the way Eddie slumbers so soundly against your stomach, you figure he must be a lot of the same.

A smile quirks the corners of your lips as you look down at the sleeping boy. It’s too filled with exhaustion to be evident, but the sentiment is there and swirling like burning embers in your chest. 

Eddie rises and falls with each of your even breaths. His heavier ones are sighed in time with yours. He’s heavy like a weighted blanket. You hardly notice the burden of him now, but you’d feel the lack of him if he were gone. 

Ornery umber curls fall over his face, sticking to his cheek and his mouth. You reach down to sweep them away with a gentle hand, jerking back when Eddie huffs and shifts against you.

“Shit. Sorry,” you apologize in a whisper. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

The boy sighs deeply through his nose and smushes his face back into your stomach. Still half-asleep, he slurs, “’S okay. Keep doing that. It felt good.”

You exhale a breathy laugh and return your hand to his hair. Your fingers dance through the curls at the crown of his head as you massage his scalp. You feel the warmth of his sigh when it fans against you, and you smile. 

“Sorry for not waking you up,” you confess in your second apology of the morning. 

Eddie’s breath jerks suddenly. You think it must be his drowsy laughter. “‘M sorry for using you like a pillow all night.”

“I kinda liked that, actually,” you admit with a scrunched nose and distant smile.

The boy lifts his cheek from your stomach and replaces it with his chin. He grins at you — plush, pink, and heavy like syrup. His chocolate eyes are a lot of the same. They’re swollen with sleep but twinkling with early morning adoration nonetheless. 

“And I’m glad you didn’t wake me up, so… I guess we’re even then, huh?”

He rises with a grunt. The mattress shifts under his weight as he leans his lankier body against yours. He props himself on the forearms he lays on either side of your head. His nose nudges against the tip of yours. You’re moments away from tilting your chin and pressing your mouth against his, morning breath and all, but a knock at your door throws a wrench in your plans. 

“Mom wants to know if you want pancakes,” Gareth calls from the other side of the entrance.

“Yes, please!” you singsong in response. 

You’d be an idiot to turn them down. Gareth’s mom makes the best breakfast this side of Indiana has ever seen. You figure you’ll have to find a way to smuggle some to Eddie before he leaves, so his lips will taste like your favorite food when you kiss him goodbye. Maybe that’ll hold you over until you can sneak him in again—

“What about you, Eddie?” Gareth calls again with a knowing inflection in his muffled voice.

It makes the both of you freeze. 

Eddie hardens like a rock on top of you, and not in the way that you’re used to. 

His eyes widen as he looks down at you, finding nothing but your own look of gaping horror. You shake your head at him — a silent plea to stay silent — even though you know that Gareth is somehow aware of his best friend’s company.

Eddie’s brain short circuits, and the words spill out before he can stop them. “Uh… Nope! I’m— I’m good.”

“Suit yourself…”

The boy’s footsteps recede down the hallway. 

Eddie exhales an embarrassed groan as his head falls to your shoulder. He tucks himself into the nook of your neck with the intent to hide there. His soft, untamed curls tickle the skin of your chin and jaw. 

Despite your own lingering mortification, your hands curl under his arms and sprawl along his shoulder blades — keeping him intently pressed against you. “How did he…?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie laughs against your skin before you can finish the question. His face finds yours again, and he shrugs. “I mean… I guess I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought when I climbed through your window.”

“Really?” you hum. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It was your curtains. They were trying to kill me, princess, I swear.”

“Well… At least, now we don’t have to worry about telling him,” you reason, even though your voice trembles.

Eddie’s grin wavers just the same. “Yeah, let’s hope he doesn’t punch me over pancakes and orange juice or something today.”

Your head tilts to your shoulder as you smile up at him. Your hands fall from his shoulders to cup his jaw. “I’d patch you up,” you promise quietly as you pull him down for a kiss. 

Eddie gravitates toward you like he was made to do it. His mouth falls agape to accept your own before he realizes. You taste like flowers and early morning and the rest of his life.

A punch in the face would be worth it if he meant he got to taste you forever.

[sweet-honey-tears]

The Eyes That Stared

GreekGod!Shoji x Fem!Reader

Thank you so much for this request and I’m so sorry how long this took. I hope this is okay and I hope you enjoy. This is loosely based off the myth eros and psyche.

Warning: Slight Self-deprecation, bullying(?)

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It was strange, extraordinary. Such a large house, mansion, house? Shoji, or Lord Shoji-no he didn't like that. Shoji referred to it as a home, but it was more of a mansion to you. A little nobody from the village, your house was a one-room shared with your family. You were of marriage age, yet marriage seemed out of the cards for you. Not by your hand, of course; you'd love to settle down in your own home, with your husband in hand, and far from the village. "Too beautiful, too handsome, to everything." That's what the first man said, and the one after that, and that. You were just too beautiful for their eyes, so beautiful that they avoided and spoke ill of you.

"I heard she kissed a frog for the looks."

"she has the intelligence of the ground she steps on,"

"she's likely only useful to warm a bed."

The woman hated you, and the young men did too, for you took all the looks from the oh-so-handsome bachelors of your village. Ah yes, the black teeth, shit-smelling men of your village, the cream of the crop. Your eyes rolled as you rested against the plush white couch, body slumping and stretching to fill the lounge chair.

Your mind wandered more; the house's silence sometimes made it a challenge to relax. Without Shoji, the rooms felt bare and cold, and yet you'd never even seen Shoji. Yes, he was a god, but one that hid his appearance from you. "I don't wish to scare you," he said, and you simply nodded, pale-faced and scared at your first encounter.

The oracle had stated he was a hideous monster in "the eyes that stared". Yet such a monster was destined to be wed to a beautiful bride from your village. It gave you little humor that the village so willingly offered you as a way to appease the god to get his favor. Appease may not even be the right word. In no story, no matter how much you searched your mind, was Shoji ever angry. Few and far gods were like that. It seemed every god had a massacre behind them; a small village turned a bloody smear due to insolence. Right or wrong actions, most god's hands were stained with blood, except for Shoji. Not even the servants of the home seem to be scared of the man. They showed respect, of course, but the house had a quiet yet peaceful atmosphere. Never filled with dread or fear, as you experienced when Bakugo came by to speak to Shoji. The tension in the room and the fear was palpable and seemed to linger long after he departed. Maybe that was why the village jumped at the opportunity to get on Shoji's good side; most other gods were terrifying, their hands dripping with the blood of villages that offended them, that didn't meet their demands. But Shoji, his so-called 'demand,' your village was willing to give. But give up a singular person, one who seemed to cause unrest among suiters, well, that was easy to give.

And so, you were taken to the cliffs and left there. You fought very little, if at all. The loneliness of your childhood and young adulthood left you with no life to yearn for. There was, however, a pit in your stomach, bubbling and gripping your lungs. "What if it's worse? What if life is hell?" You silently prayed to the gods, "please, let this not be worse."

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You must have fallen asleep, for candles and lanterns were lit. The beautiful glowing bodies hung from the ceiling like stars, illuminating the room with their soft glow. It made your chest warm and tingle; Shoji added these for you once realizing the house's darkness was dreary and cold. He would be home by now; the thought made your chest flutter. Excitement, joy, you couldn't care to figure it out. It didn't matter; he was home, back from the prayers, and possibly your village. Your mind wandered back to the dusty place as you pushed up from the chair you'd been lying on. The soft white silks of your dress trailed behind you as you quietly walked.

Did Shoji bless them like they'd hoped? Had your 'sacrifice' satisfied their need for a god's attention. You laughed slightly; the image of your grasping village, pulling on the capes of whatever god they could reach for attention, was pitiful. Maybe a part of you was still stuck there, still bitter at how you were treated. Yet here you were, married to a god, in a paradise only a child could dream of. But you could hear their voices:

"You don't even know what your husband looks like."

"You married a monster, a monster. Ha! And you thought you were so much better than us."

You brushed off the thoughts. You were happy, so happy. You didn't know what your husband looked like; the world said he was a monster, and so be it. He was kind and gentle, he listened, he didn't hurt you. You smiled proudly at yourself; your prayers were answered, regardless of the dark age lingered.

You silently pushed open the door to the room. According to the many servants, Shoji typically stayed in this room after work. Their nervous glances at each other as you happily thanked them went unnoticed by your excitement. You poked your head into the room with a bright smile on your face. "Sho-," the words crumbled in your mouth. He stood there, body stiffening, in front of a large mirror. His extra arms stretched out, the gold bracelets and jewelry shining brightly. His face, even when tense, made your breath hitch. Your fingers twitched at the sight of the scars on his chin, yearning to rub them with your fingers as if to soothe the pain. Your heart ached at the thought that someone could do something to such a kind and gentle giant. You had seemed to catch him amid something; he looked startled by what the mirror's reflection showed. You crept more into the room, your body moving with impulse, standing a few feet from the door as you both stared. You watched his mouth creek open, sharp white teeth staring at you, and fear trickled up your spine. Was he angry? The thought was sobering, terrifying.

He spoke first, shattering the thin tension. "I'm sorry." His voice was small, cracked, and nervous.

"W-what?" Your voice shook, mouth dry. He crumbled in on himself, his extra arms wrapping around his body like a blanket, like a hug. Was he…?

"I know Im… Im not what you deserve. "He turned away from you, his eyes staring at the wall behind him. "I'm hideous, I know. I will keep the illusions on, I promise. You will not have to endure this…" You watch his body tense again. His voice dripping in disgust, "Thing"

"No!" Your words came out sharp and startled you. But your heart pounded and seized at the idea of not being able to see his face again. "Please don't," Your feet were quiet as you shuffled towards him. Your hand out and voice soft as if approaching a wounded animal. Your fingers brushed one of his arms, and you watched as he flinched. You struggled for words, trying to grasp the correct string to make him believe you. "I want to see you; I want to see the face of the man I love." Your voice was soft, and your fingers spread over his large shoulder blades. Feeling as the muscle slightly loosened at your words.

A small, saddening laugh slipped from his lips. His body straightened slightly, and he stood at full height, towering over you. You took a small step back, enough to give him room to stand fully and face you.

Your eyes scanned him, once again awestruck.

"You do not need to lie to me-"

"I'm not," your voice was sharp. Your hands reached up carefully, hoping to hold his face. Shoji's back hunched slightly, lowering himself just enough for your fingers to reach him. His eyes fluttered closed as your thumb ran over the long scars on his chin, fingers rising over the bumps and dips from the deep cuts. "You're so handsome, Shoji." Your words were like whispers as you stared at him. You are no monster; you are beautiful."

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[cherubispunk]

NEPHILIM: THE FALLEN - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: fallen or damned? who's to tell when it's joel miller?

a note from Lucy: DONT HATE ME I KNOW ITS BEEN A LONG TIME!! Not entirely happy with this but it's been sitting in my docs for months now and i had to get it out there to give me some peace of mind so please be aware it may well be riddle with grammatical mistakes and typos galore. as always like, comment and reblog to save a sinners sanity!

playlist | moodboard + poem

wc: 2755

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! Jackson era!post outbreak!Joel, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, yearning, idiots in love, angst angst angst!!!!!!, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20’s/ Joel is in his late 50’s), smut, oral sex (m! receiving), rough oral sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, there’s probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit) - Lucy crying over a bloody google doc :)

series masterlist | m.list

Ephesians 2:3 Among them we too all formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest.

The sky was bruised. It was like God– or whatever resided up there– knew. The grey clouds, and the garish yellow of the setting sun, and the deep blue that ebbed into purple…they all knew. Your heart ached too. Bruised. It seemed to crack a little more each day. What started as nothing more than a hairline fracture had split into a gaping, weeping slice. Why? Because Joel was always quiet. For such a large man he had a ghostly habit of creeping into a room without notice. Creeping into your heart too through your hollow ribs. You could feel him behind you now though. His breath thick on the nape of your neck and it cooled the thin sheen of sweat on your skin. Soothed your burning flesh while saving it from the inferno. The tension became bearable. These little spaces of empty matter between all else. That slight awkwardness about his usual stoic yet confident demeanour…it was endearing now.

You were easing into the silence, content with watching the bruise darken from purple to midnight blue. The sky would turn on its bright little stars, and the moon would slice through sapphire as the early evening aged. The sun was going to rest now, the greying moon taking its post to watch over the town. You should follow the sun’s direction. Close your eyes so as to not have to witness his all too soon departure.

His fingers, so gentle, so strong, gently traced the curve and divot of your hip under the covers. It was strange to think just moments prior they had been inside you. Making you feel boneless in bed.

“Bambi?” He asked, tentative and uncharacteristically uncertain. He loathed it; the change in him.

“Mhm?” You hummed lazily, your hands tucked under the pillow to keep them warm, knees curled up to your chest. But no answer nor following question came. You knew what it was. He was cramming something back down his throat before he had the chance to say it for fear of being out of line. One day it shall choke him blue. He was strung so tightly. Tension in his shoulders that made them rise uncomfortably. And you noticed this when you turned to face him. Neither of you spoke for a moment, as if you were fooling yourself into believing he might continue. Your heart cracked a little more when he turned to face the wall,

“Never mind. It’s nothin’.” He had no reason to be weary of you. However in the past few weeks, coming up to a month, there was subtle, almost imperceptible unease that lingered. And festered. Palpable. Tangible. You could feel it when you reached out to touch his skin. So warm and gorgeous. Golden like ichor in this setting sunlight. You dared to press your lips to the wing of a shoulder blade, skin mangled with scar tissue where you liked to imagine wings once resided, and felt him flinch under your featherlight kiss. “Don’t, Bambi.”

“Joel-“

“I said: No.” His voice was firm, and didn’t give much leeway for convincing. “It’s not somethin’ you know how to fix.” But you were stubborn now. You’d found your feet. You stood your ground more, imitated behaviour. Before he could turn away again you reached to right him, set him flat on his back upon the mattress and splay your hand over his soft stomach under the covers. His throat tightened when your hand ventured timidly south. Then his breath tangled in his throat when it wrapped loosely around his half hard cock. Gently stroking it until it stood to attention in your palm. “Let me help…the way I know how.” You whispered into his ear, running your tongue under his earlobe to bring it between your teeth. Voice like honey, so sweet, and smooth, and slow pouring enough to get stuck in. Jesus Fucking Christ, he hated himself for even entertaining the idea of letting you do this for him. For being the one to help you find your feet. For being the man who tarnished innocence. It seemed all he did these days was ruin what little good there was left in the world. He’d taken an entire inkpot to a pristine sheet of paper, splattered black all over it without a care in the world until now. He felt like the space between you was stygian and reeked of his own sin. It simmered and spat and writhed and any moment now I would boil over the second you came to terms with the fact you were too good for him.

His nostrils flared with the thought but with a twist of your wrist he melted. Because at the base of it all, the very depth of his humanity, he was a selfish, selfish man. You watched a swallow pass down the thick column of his throat and rested your head on his shoulder while your hand dragged up his thick, full shaft, thumb smearing a bead of precome over the delicate flushed skin of its head. Joel watched the ceiling and wallowed in pathetic self pity as you kissed your way down his navel, lips moving in a mumbling of words he couldn't quite hear. He let out a breathy moan when you wrapped your lips around the tip, pressing your tongue flat to the underside to let the taste seep onto your tongue. He then closed his eyes trying to imagine anyone other than you between his legs. Another mouth. Another tongue. Someone else's voice.

It was no use because it seemed your eyes, the shade, the shape, were printed to the back of his lids. He gave up. He was too old to try to partake in sisyphean tasks.

Joel sat up and you moved between his legs as he threw the covers off to watch you. His back to the headboard, your warm mouth inviting him deeper, he hesitated to press a hand to the crown of your head, but when you pulled off to lick a flat tongued strip from base to tip, he found himself taking a fist of your hair and righting you over the head completely, pushing down so he slipped into your mouth. Muscle memory had the twitch of a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. The sight of you was enough to have his hips begging to buck, chasing the back of your throat, attempting to find that reaction again.

What you couldn't take of him you wrapped loosely in one hand and the other cupped his balls, adding the slightest pressure that had a dirty cuss passing his chapped lips. Deep inhales billowed in his nose, nostrils flared slightly as he dragged your open, salivating mouth up and down on his length. What he would never understand is how much you hungered for this every time. There was a pain in wanting him like no other, and a reward this great sowed the seed of pleading. You didn’t mind yearning for him because, to you, being hungry was quite a satisfying feeling. It feels nice to want something. To yearn. To have a purpose. You imagined he felt quite the same with the way he could hardly keep his hands from your cunt or your mouth when you passed his front door’s threshold.

“Look at me, Bambi.” He grunted, and your eyes fluttered slightly before the hue of them locked on his through your tear clumped lashes. “I’d like this mouth a whole lot more if it didn’t say such pretty things to me.” He almost lamented, and you felt a tug at your heartstrings. “Makin’ a man hope again.”

Joel sighed, eyes closing for the briefest second. His large hand was still pushing your head with the gentlest of force back down, then his fingers gripped at your hair, dragging you again so the warm, silken touch of your lips and tongue made the fire in his belly start to burn. It was aching, and deep rooted, and had a slow simmer to it. One he begged to hurry along. Joel wanted nothing more than his release so he could set you free again. Set the bird free of its cage. So he threw caution to the wind, and soon you felt the tip of his thick cock reach the back of your mouth again, your throat constricting. “Why won’t you hate me, huh Bambi? What did I do to deserve this?” He asked. If you knew no better you’d have thought his tone implied he hated it. His teeth gritted, words seethed between them. He spat it out in a way that made him seem unworthy of your attention— or the very taste of the thought disgusted him and made his stomach pull up in a wretch. Joel bit down so violently on nothing he swore his molars might turn to dust and clag in spit with the way he was salivating over the sight of you; Puffy lips, bloodshot watering eyes, messy hair. Bent over him and sucking on his cock like it was your only goddamned purpose in life.

You wanted to reply, splutter out the words, but he silenced you. The tip of his cock brushing the back of your throat, and causing your stomach to recoil, tensing as you gagged. Retching slightly as he grimaced at the sound. “You know I can’t love y–” he stopped mid sentence as the ache bloomed into a deep burn. You were oh so grateful because it meant you wouldn’t have to hear what you yearned not to. What you buried deep beneath your stomach and above your diaphragm— that slow, blooming ache. The feeling would never see the light of day. You’d rather die than come to terms with the fact that Joel would not be yours. He belonged to the world. The mass of nature that befell you. That which kept you human and incompetent. He was large, untamable, and oh so delectable in all ways other than matters of love. Joel Miller could not love you.

“Fuck- gonna come, Bambi.” He choked out, head falling back. You looked up at the sight of him through your lashes, lips parted, his brows creased gently in the space between them. Just as you yearned for him to love you, you yearned to be destroyed by him. Coated in him, broken down to pieces by him. Joel Miller could quite literally break you in half, then half again, and again— to the point where nothing was discernible— and you'd get on your knees to thank him for it all. Maybe loving him and being destroyed by him were two in the same?

In the months you’d known him you’d grown to learn that this was as close to a purpose as you’d get. The world robbed you of one, so you searched for it. Selfish enough to keep digging to find one. Only it had no purpose. It has a pattern now, and patterns trick and deceive people into believing in divine intervention. Joel was your divine right. Your purpose. That was what you believed. What you thought about each night. What you thought about now as you took his cock down to the base, the head of him brushing the back of your throat and folds soaked– drenched in the essence of your own arousal. All of which was emphasised by the ache you felt between your thighs that ebbed a little deeper with wanting. A ghost of the pleasure you felt when he was inside you. You entertained it with two fingers slipping between your thighs, teasing your clit. “God— Bambi…” He groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as he let go. Hot ropes of his release flooding your mouth with their heady, salty taste.

You pulled off his shaft, now wet and slick in your own saliva, swallowing a mouthful of his release. His eyes never left you, honing in on the ripple of your delicate throat as you swallowed his come down. Joel couldn't help but hook a thumb into your mouth to unhinge your jaw— to see if anything was left. Nothing was. There never was. Like him, you were too selfish to leave anything.

He should have known better. You never disappoint. “Bambi, you’re too damn good for me.” he panted, skin sweat slick and flushed.

“I promise I'm not.” you whispered to the skin of his lips before he wrapped a large, steadying hand around your arm and pulled you up to his chest. His face met yours and when you looked into those hickory eyes you could have melted on the spot; For the hue of them was nothing like you'd ever seen before, and could command nations to their knees. And if not nations then it could certainly do so to you. “I’m just as damaged as you.`’

The words had his gut in knots because they were akin to holding up a mirror to his visage. And holding his head in place. Holding it still so he was forced to look himself in the eyes and reflect. Reflecting on the monster he’d become. The monster he would always be.

“I’m not asking you to love me, Joel.” You spoke, your voice quiet, slight and timid. Uncertain of his reaction. The way your eyes met his was proof of that. Wide like a foal, wide enough to register the unjust curl of a lip. “ I’m just asking you to stay…”

The words had been burning the tip of your tongue red raw. Each night as he lay beside you, the same questions— words made up of nothing but consonants that had a profound effect on you– would hardly let you rest in his arms. They tortured you instead; Mocked you. It was the equivalent of hanging. You could feel the ghost of a noose around your neck. It might as well have been His hands. It was as rough as them after all.

What is wrong with you? What is so repulsive about you that warrants his departure? Was it the curve of your hips– their dips? Or even the bump on your nose– how dare it not have the perfect influxing curve! The slant of your eyes? The jagged stretch marks on the inside of your thighs! Not only had they the nerve to exist in their silver, shining mockery, posing as a diamond, but they had the fucking nerve to sit where others could see. Fuck them entirely and their very existance. Were those very thighs plump enough? Too plump? Why was there no gap between? Was there too much of a sag to your breasts? The colour of your nipples– why did they have to be that colour? Were the lines on your forehead marring your skin? What on you– about you– detested him? Because if you knew you'd cut it off. You'd change it. You take a knife to your nose and cut it off even if it was just to spite your own face. Now, laying here with him, you wish to be anyone but yourself. Yourself was the woman that disgusted you. It would always be the woman that disgusted you if he didn’t fall in love.

“That's jus’ the thing, Bambi.” He sighed, his mouth moving in a slow hushed mumble. His wind chapped, weathered lips grazed the shell of your ear, “I already do.” Followed by silence, and then: “An’ I ain’t no good at it, I’m afraid.”

That was the problem. Joel thought it had to be a life lived in an entirety of carolling laughter for you. A warm, joyous time. The kind of peace the world seldom granted anyone anymore. Not bound to him by the twine of his selfish nature. In the wrong man’s bed. If the world had told him anything before it was that he deserved to be alone. First Sarah. Then Tess. Ellie too. It was only a matter of time before you left too. He had no clue that what you wanted was just to be held. To be kept. He didn’t have to carve out a hole in himself to accommodate you. Nor give an arm or a limb. He just had to stay. Exactly where he was now. Exactly as he is. But selfish men believe in selfish things. And Joel Miller was a selfish man.

Maybe he wasn't. Humans are, after all, selfish creatures. If we are innately selfish does that make us selfish, or just human. Regardless– Joel was selfish. Yes. But more importantly: He was the damned, the scrutinised, the beggar. All of the above.

Joel Miller was, and forever will be, the fallen.

[sinsirellaxx]

Unspoken Truths

Aemond x Jacaerys

Warning: Not proofread – sorry for any mistakes!

Life wasn’t fair – it never was. Never has been. Never will be. Some people were luckier than others, whereas most were floating between lucky and unlucky. And some were second born sons – spares as some liked to call them. Without the right to anything but sloppy seconds if the chance arises – if the gods felt gracious. Even if he was more deserving than his older brother. His rapist, drunk, lazy, stupid older brother – sitting next to their oldest nephew, whispering who knows what into his ear. His grip on his cup tightened as he watched said nephew frown deeply, leaning away from his annoying uncle as he fidgeted around in his seat in discomfort.

Aegon laughed loudly as he threw his arm around his nephew’s shoulder, pulling the younger male closer to him.

His jaw tightened. How dare he? Not only was his brother utterly useless – but he had also always been close with dearest Jace. His Jace.

Aemond Targaryen sat in the great hall, his eyes locked onto the scene before him. The laughter and chatter of the feast around him faded into the background as he focused on Aegon and Jacaerys. His brother's arm draped casually over Jacaerys’ shoulder ignited a fire of jealousy in Aemond's chest.

Why does it always have to be Aegon? What made him special? He bested his older brother in everything. Aemond's thoughts were a storm of bitterness and longing. He had always been the dutiful son, the one who trained tirelessly, who studied the histories and mastered the sword. Yet it was Aegon, with all his flaws, who seemed to effortlessly win people over, including Jacaerys. Jacaerys, with his dark curls, beautiful hazel eyes and pouty lips.

His throat suddenly felt dry, and the Dornish wine in his cup did not help ease the scratchy feeling. Aemond yearned for the closeness that Aegon seemed to still have– for the bond that had eluded him.

As Aemond watched, he saw Jacaerys shift uncomfortably under Aegon’s arm. A small frown on his face as Aegon whispered something into his ear. The sight stirred something ugly in him – the need to protect his nephew throbbed like an open wound. The fierce desire to take Jacaerys away from his brother’s clutches made him clutch his cup tighter. He set said cup down with a determined clink and rose from his seat, making his way towards his annoying brother.

“Aemond,” Aegon greeted him with a lazy smile as he approached. “Come join us. Jace and I were just having a chat.” The older prince snickered, his hand still on Jace’s shoulder as he played with the short brown locks on the younger male’s neck. Aemond’s single eye followed the motion, jaw clenching at the way the boy shivered slightly – the skin touched by his brother breaking out into goosebumps.

Aemond’s eye flicked to Jacaerys’s face, who met his gaze with a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Aegon,” he said coolly, “perhaps Jacaerys would prefer some fresh air. The hall is quite stifling tonight.”

Jacaerys seized the opportunity, nodding quickly. “Yes, I think I would. Thank you, uncle Aemond.”

Aegon’s grip on Jacaerys’ shoulder tightened briefly before he let go, a hint of annoyance crossing his features. “Don’t keep him too long, little brother. We were just getting to the good part.”

Aemond’s nostrils flared but tried to ignore the jibe as best as he could as he motioned for Jacaerys to follow him. They made their way out of the hall and into the cool night air, the sounds of the feast fading behind them. They walked in silence for a while, the tension between them palpable.

“I’m sorry about Aegon,” Aemond said finally, breaking the silence. “He can be... overbearing.”

Jacaerys whipped to stare at his uncle with wide eyes – surprised by the apology. He had expected his other uncle to curse him, fight him – anything but this. Running a hand through his brown hair his shoulders visibly relaxed as he finally managed to find his words.

“It’s not your fault, uncle. I just wish he would understand that not everyone enjoys his company as much as he thinks they do.” His voice came out surprisingly stable – no signs of disbelief or surprise detectable.

Aemond frowned as doubt filled him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at his nephew’s words. “You surely jest, nephew. You have always been rather loyal to my brother – following after him like a little pup. Practically begging for his attention with your big brown eyes – one might think you’d be infatuated with him.” He spat out the last part, obviously vexed by the idea of Jacaerys being in love with his brother.

Jacaerys glared at him, his face hardening as he took in the blonde’s words. “It appears my brother has taken more than just your eye then – you truly are blind, uncle.”

Aemond’s smirk faded, his eyes burning with something the younger couldn’t name. “Heed your tongue, nephew.” Stepping closer he easily towered over the younger male, their chests almost touching.

“Or what?” The prince of Dragonstone challenged as he angled his face up to glare into his uncle’s eye.

Gritting his teeth, Aemond’s right hand shot out to take hold of the younger’s chin harshly, lifting the other boy’s face closer to his. “You forget your place, Jacaerys,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You won’t like what I have in store for you. Do not provoke me, Strong.”

Jacaerys, his chin trapped in Aemond’s grasp, hissed when the taller male’s nails dug into his skin. But he refused to back down. “You may have the advantage in size and strength, uncle, but that does not make you right. And here I thought you were trying to be nice.”

Aemond scoffed. The words hit him like a slap, and for a moment, something like doubt or guilt flickered in his eye. He had wanted to help him, wanted to protect him from his crude brother. But one of the very few things that Aemond could not manage were his emotions.

“You are one to talk.” Aemond sneered, his grip tightening momentarily before he released Jacaerys’s chin with a rough shove. “Calling me blind but you cannot even see what this is all really about.” Aemond leaned closer, his hot breath fanning over the younger’s face.

“This is about you, nephew. You are right – I was trying to be nice. To protect you. ”

Jacaerys gaped at his uncle his dark brows still pulled into a frown. “I don’t need your protection.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, a flicker of something more than anger in his gaze. “Sure, you don’t.” He scoffed. “So, you would have managed Aegon all by yourself, then?”

Jacaerys nodded. Aemond’s grip tightened.

“But you haven’t done anything to ward his advances off – am I correct in assuming that you actually enjoyed my brother’s attention then?”

Jacaerys blinked, taken aback. “What? No! I just did not wish to make a scene in front of grandsire. Why does it even bother you so much?”

Aemond’s expression softened, just a fraction. “Because it’s you – because I don’t want anyone to touch you. To be close to you. To even breathe the same air as you. It’s always been you to me.”

Jacaerys’s breath caught in his throat. “You’re mad.”

“Perhaps,” Aemond admitted, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “But it doesn’t change the truth. I’ve wanted you, Jacaerys. Wanted you in ways you can’t even imagine. Wanted you in exchange for my eye.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his fingers finally letting go of the younger’s chin.

Jacaerys took a step back, his mind reeling. “You’re lying. This is another one of your twisted games.”

Aemond shook his head slowly. “No games, Jacaerys. Just the truth. And you can’t run from it forever.”

Jacaerys’s heart pounded in his chest, confusion and anger swirling within him. “This is insane. You’re insane.”

“Insane or not,” Aemond replied softly, “the truth remains. And one day, you’ll have to face it.”

Jacaerys turned and walked away, his steps hurried and unsteady. Aemond watched the younger’s retreating form as he let him walk away. His hands balled into fists at his sides with restricted anger. It had hurt to watch Jacaerys walk away – it broke his heart into pieces. But he knew the younger needed some time. For now, the confrontation was over, but Aemond knew it was only a matter of time before they faced each other again.

[sunnycanvas]

Can you please make one where reader is smaller than Baldwin and Baldwin has a size kink?

Warning: Mentions of-: Domestic Violence, Character Death and Religious Implications

NSFW: Lactation Kink, Size kink, Creampie

I was busy preparing food for my children when I suddenly heard someone calling my name "(Y/N)!" "(Y/N)!". "Lucas my husband's friend", I thought hastily, I veiled myself and ventured outside, only to find him accompanied by a man bearing the unmistakable affliction of leprosy, perched atop a weary horse. "Might be a knight of Saint Lazarus" I speculated silently. Lucas dismounted swiftly, aiding the afflicted man's descent with care as they approached.

With a palpable sense of urgency, Lucas swiftly guided the afflicted man toward me, his voice heavy with urgency as he spoke, "Listen closely, (Y/N). You are the sole individual I trust to aid the king." Startled, I gasped as I beheld the figure standing beside him, realizing with a jolt that the renowned leper king of Jerusalem stood before me, here in my modest house. Before I could fully process the enormity of the situation, Lucas mounted his horse once more, urgently entreating, "Please, (Y/N), maintain the utmost discretion regarding the king's presence here until I return with here with aid." Struggling against my confusion, I attempted to interject, to stall Lucas's departure, but he vanished into the distance before my words could take hold, Left with no choice but to confront the gravity of the situation, I turned to the regal stranger before me, his countenance bearing traces of offense at my incredulity. Summoning all the grace I could muster I extended a gesture of contrition "I beg your forgiveness, my lord. The unexpected nature of this encounter has left me momentarily disoriented." To my relief, the king's countenance softened, a glimmer of understanding dawning in his eyes. "Your hospitality is most graciously received, good lady," he replied, his tone carrying a note of appreciation. "If it pleases you, I would be honored to seek refuge within the sanctuary of your humble home". With a nod of assent, I guided the king into my home, though inwardly grappling with disbelief at the surreal circumstances that had brought royalty to my doorstep.

I requested the to sit down while I attempted to serve food. Sensing my confusion while serving the king interrupted my thoughts "We lost the Jacob's ford". My hands faltered momentarily, the weight of his words settling heavily upon me "Perhaps God has greater plans for us". Though he remained unconvinced by my attempt to offer solace, the king nodded reluctantly, acknowledging the possibility. "Perhaps".

As the sweet sound of "Mommy" reached my ears, I couldn't help but smile, momentarily excusing myself from the company of the king. My children bounded inside with youthful exuberance, their curiosity piqued upon seeing that I was not alone. "Mommy, who is he?" "Is he your lover" they inquired innocently, their words tinged with playful mischief. Startled by their audacity, I admonished them gently, urging them to show respect to both me and our unexpected guest. However, their giggles persisted, impervious to my reprimand. With a firm yet tender tone, I instructed them "Go to your aunt's house and stay there till tomorrow afternoon" "Okay" they yelled back enthusiastically as they giggled running away. Feeling a flush of embarrassment, I began to turn towards the stranger, intending to offer my apologies for my children's impudence. Yet, as I glanced at him, I caught a glimpse of a profound yearning in his eyes." God has blessed you with beautiful children" he uttered softly, his expression betraying a deep-seated longing for offspring of his own. My heart clenched with empathy, realizing that his desire for his own offspring. Seeking to divert the conversation, the king inquired about my husband, to which I explained the tragic reality of his demise on the battlefield. In a gesture of empathy, the king extended his condolences for my loss. The king inquired about his people's daily life. I could tell he loved conversation and had curious nature so I entertained him with tales of our everyday life. As we concluded our meal, the king humbly requested a place to rest for the night. Eager to provide hospitality, I assisted him in finding comfortable accommodations, grateful for the opportunity to extend kindness to one in need, even amidst the complexities of our circumstances.

NSFW

After retiring to my chamber, I found solace in offering my gratitude to the divine. Truth be told my spouse was a man of abusive tendencies, had long tormented me with his violence. Seeking refuge in prayer, I beseeched the Almighty for deliverance, and in His mercy, He relieved me of my burden by removing my husband from this earthly realm. With profound reverence, I acknowledged the providence of both God and our noble king, who, in their benevolence, safeguarded my well-being and facilitated the departure of my oppressor. Overflowing with gratitude, I humbly petitioned the heavens for an audience with the king, yearning to express my heartfelt appreciation through devoted service With earnest fervor, I petitioned the divine to grant me an audience with the king, so that I might express my profound appreciation through humble service and he once again grant me my prayers

"I should take a bath right now. It's too hot in Jerusalem right now" I thought. I went to my bathroom not bothering to close the door knowing nobody's at home except the king who went to sleep. I took a lamp with me as I began stripping. Once I was fully nude I was about to turn to water when I suddenly noticed a stranger peeping at me. I screamed when the stranger quickly went inside and closed my mouth "It's me" "Your king" I calmed down. I could practically feel his body hugging me. My naked chest next to his clothted one and my maidenhood next to his manhood. He is too close to me. I could feel his girth of his penis "He is so huge, how can someone take this size". The king's eyes were clouded with lust "I wanted to use washroom" he reasoned as he left

I immediately went to sleep feeling too embarrassed to take a bath. An hour later suddenly my breast started to hurt a lot. I took a lamp and quickly went to kitchen and took a glass squeezing my nipples to secrete milk. I heard the sound of glass dropping. I looked ahead and saw the king staring at me. "I wahn-ted wa..ter" he stammered. I did hear that the king had stammer problem which I was lucky enough to see. It happened twice could it be God is asking me to serve the king like that, finding newfound determination. I went to king and asked him help regarding my lactating breast "Please my lord, we have already crossed the boundary" I begged "Call me Baldwin". Baldwin needn't be told twice as he went to my nipples and started suckling it. He was suckling hard which helped my nipples to secrete lots of milk which in turn provided me relief. I sighed in bliss as my hand went to his hair playing with his soft curls and kissed his forehead as he kept drinking my milk for a long time his other hand squeezing and playing with my other breast. Once he realized that very little milk is coming out of my nipples he switched to my other breast suckling it. His hand now playing with my used breast. Once Baldwin was done he lifted me up in bridal style and carried me to his bed. He soon took off his clothes as he gently laid me down. He slowly spread my leg. He nervously took his penis near my vagina which I noticed his penis is veiny with good girth and large size. "How will that fit" I thought. Sensing my hesitancy he questioned if he could go ahead "Yes, it's just. That thing is largest I have seen so far" "I wonder if it will fit". My words seem to boost his confidence to which he kissed me in mouth and later whispered in my ear "Don't worry it will fit. i will make sure of that" He went slowly. "It's first time for him" "I need to serve him best tonight" Baldwin entered just his tip in which my hole quickly grabbed it. I could already feel my hole tightening. He is so huge. Baldwin moan loudly in this small sensation he attempted to go in further but his size was making it difficult "So tight... Is this how a women really feels like..." "Oh god, this is heaven!" "Thank you God for bringing her to me". My suspicious are confirmed. God really planned this, "Please move" "I can't so tight". Baldwin immediately went down and started suckling my milk. Like a mother I consoled him playing with his hair as he suckled my milk to encourage him to go in further. Baldwin now went inside further. This time I gasped at sensation. "Ah!" "Ah!". It both painful and pleasurable "Oh (Y/N) so good.. I think I am already addicted to your body". Baldwin went inside even further and I screamed in both pain and pleasure. I could feel tears streaming down my face. Baldwin kissed me all over face "Shh..It's okay" "I am fully inside now". Baldwin waited a little for me to fully adjust then skillful moved his hips gently knowing I am having tough time taking his size. I bit my lips silently enjoying both pain and pleasure. Baldwin did not like that and said "Moan and scream let me know how I make you feel" Baldwin started kissing the nape of my neck due to which I whimpered. I could feel him smiling as he would purposely make me moan and beg his name. Baldwin hands went to my breast as he began playing with them again. I could tell he found his new favorite body part . "I will now go faster now" I nodded in acknowledgment. He went went faster pounded deep inside my hole. I moaned as I went and held his arms for support. He kept on pounding as he kept going I could feel myself coming near. "Baldwin, will you come inside me"

"Yes, it would be okay since I am already infertile..." He repeated the last statement in pain. Soon enough we cummed together. I could feel his leprous seed filling my fertile womb. Baldwin and I soon fell asleep with him laying his head on my chest.

[ohmenai]

Icelandic Elastic Kinks

On the rugged shores of a lake, nestled between Icelandic mountains that scratch the skies, the cool morning air nips at everything exposed. But there is warmth in the unexpected; there stands Ragnar, an erotic vision from the exotic lands known for its chill. I him through a friend of a friend, a stripper in need of a portfolio to promote his captivating nights.

It was like discovering a raw diamond in a sea of glass. With his intense emerald gaze under the rugged contrast of a blue bandana and his hair dark as the midnight sun, he was eager to be immortalized. In the dim light of dawn, his silhouette is stark against the serene backdrop. Today, he's not just a local dancer, but a deity ensnared in my artistic vision, eager to expand his allure onto the pages of my OhMenFlex collection.

It didn't take much to persuade him to strike a pose for me; he had a kinky affinity for the tight squeeze of elastic bands. So when I promised him a collection of these tantalizing rings, he readily complied, and strutted into the lagoon's embrace standing knee-deep. This bands wrapped tightly around his biceps, wrists, and neck, enhancing the beat of life that pulsates from his veins—a beat that seems to echo through that quiet morning.

But the bands' true masterpiece lay between his legs, where they coiled around his erect cock and saggy balls, squeezing them into an outline of salacious desires. Those bands around his raging hard-on, one on his base, another cradling his shaven nuts, and one crowning his ultra-sensitive glans made him gasp, the sensations undeniable, his meat stick hanging plump, skimming the water's surface. A single dark mole was highlighted on his engorged morcilla, nestled between prominent veins, as if it were a mark left by the Gods to distinguish him from mere mortals, was so damn provocative.

With each click of my camera, Ragnar's arousal became more palpable. The elastic bands had turned his cock into a cylinder of yearning, the head of his member glossy and outrageously sensitive. His shaven balls, seemed to quiver with anticipation, as if aching for release from their blue constraints. The session—though set in nature's lap—became a theatre of carnality, each shot a confession of ardent obsessions whispered into the ear of the world.

Available now at Patreon and Fanvue

[mavrintarou]

[3:34 P M] GOJO SATORU - A/B/O

Happy birthday to the man with the prettiest eyes ever. My first Gojo story :)

Warning: Oh... this is 18+; minors please don't...; explicit contents; A/B/O theme (so you know what's going to happen without me going into too much details) Note: making up a lot of A/B/O theme stuff... then again I make up a lot of things. Nothing edited, hope you all have been well.

.

Y/n dreaded this day.

As she reflected on her recent feelings of anxiety and restlessness, it suddenly dawned on her why she had been experiencing those emotions for the past week. Gojo Satoru’s birthday was just around the corner, and more precisely, it was today.

Y/n stayed home from work, calling in sick.

Because being sick is precisely what she was feeling now.

Sick and weak.

For her alpha.

The day your mate is born holds significant importance.

Its intensity is as high and deep as an alpha’s rut and omega’s heat.

Whether it is an alpha, omega, or beta, the day of their birthday for a mated pair is endless sex that could last for days. It was the one time a year that a Beta could experience the closest to what could be an omega’s heat.

Y/n has been separated from her mate, Gojo Satoru, for almost eight months.

She joined the rest of the other women who got a piece of the successful and almighty God, Gojo Satoru. He is a teacher in the same school that she also taught at.

She only needed him to get through her heat.

And it was the most incredible sex she’s ever had.

Gojo Satoru lived up to his name.

Y/n expected to be fucked and tossed afterward; she was prepared for it.

The only problem was that she was marked and could not be tossed.

Satoru was not supposed to go into a rut that night, but he did and marked her without her consent.

The following morning before he woke up, she ran. She quit her job and left.

Once mated, a unique bond forms between them, akin to a form of telepathy. Y/n can instinctively sense when he is nearby, actively searching for her presence. She could feel his yearning for her, his desire palpable. However, despite the knowledge of his longing, Y/n refused to submit to the connection.

And she would run. Again. And again.

Her current location is within the dense population of Tokyo, Shibuya, to be exact. Millions of other alphas, omegas, and betas surround her. She relied solely on the strong scent of other alphas and omegas to mask hers and make it challenging for Gojo to track her down.

Y/n shivered in her small full-size bed.

Not because she was cold but aching… burning with the need for her alpha. Need of his pheromones. His scent. His cum deep inside of her. His saliva over her mark.

The need of everything of him on her and in her.

Her protection wall was crumbling, giving in, and if Gojo were anywhere near her, he would easily track her down.

But she couldn’t sense him.

Or so she thought.

.

Y/n lost track of time. She was falling in and out of sleep, dreaming and hallucinating that Gojo was there.

She couldn’t differentiate between a dream and a nightmare.

She would have a scenario of Gojo making sweet love to her. Or a scenario of her chained up and Gojo punishing her, not allowing her to cum because of her reckless behavior of abandoning him.

Both she wanted it and needed it.

Cool fingers traced lightly along her jaw, and her eyes fluttered open.

The piercing crystal blue eyes are looking directly right at her.

Is this another dream?

All the Gojo’s in her dream and nightmare came to her in various ways, but this one was half naked, topless.

Her eyes close, and she grabs his large hand and leans into his palm. “’Toru…”

The long cool sandalwood scent hits her nose, and Y/n moans, tightening her grip around his wrist.

“You’ve been a naughty mate…” Y/n opens her eyes again, hearing his voice. This one is speaking to her, unlike the other ones.

Gojo leans down, his eyes cold, “what should I do to you? How should I punish you for running from me?”

With her other hand, she cups his cheek. “How… do you want to punish me?”

His head tilts, “you will take any form of punishment?” Gojo’s nose flares as he smells her sweet scent. “Answer me,” he growled.

His scent makes her feel drunk; she smiles with hooded eyes, “yes, alpha.”

A menacing smile curves upon his lips; Y/n’s smile gradually fades, replaced by a growing sense of unease. He leans back, and at that moment, everything about him undergoes a drastic transformation, causing an icy chill to ripple down her body.  “How…” his fingers work on undoing the buttons of her pajamas. “How can I tie you to me forever?” His finger touches the mark he’s left on her left shoulder, right above her collarbone. “Obviously, a mark isn’t enough to keep you by my side… I was a fool to think that.” He pushes silk pajama materials open, revealing her naked upper body.

The finger touching her mark trails down her chest and through the valley of her breast and stops at her abdomen. “I am left to my last resort to ensure I tie you to me forever.”

Y/n’s breath is shallow, and she realizes… this is real.

It wasn’t a dream.

Or nightmare.

Gojo’s eyes narrow, “knocking you up will surely tie you to me forever, right?”

Y/n swallowed at his statement. Knocking her up will forever seal her to him aside from the mark. During pregnancy, an omega will need its alpha’s pheromone, scent, and cum to nourish a healthy pregnancy because an omega’s main priority will be to birth a healthy baby. The chemicals in her brain will alter her mood and shift her mindset, almost as if she is someone different when she becomes pregnant. She will do everything to keep herself strong through the pregnancy and keep her baby safe, which means relying solely on her alpha to nourish them.

He leans down, a cocky grin on his face, “awake now, baby?”

Y/n slaps his hand away and rolls away but doesn’t get far as Gojo pins her down on her bed, flat on her stomach.

“Let me go!”

Gojo’s body pressed against her back; she could feel his body heat through the thin silk material of her back. “Not a chance, baby,” he chuckles coldly. “I’m done chasing after you.”

She gasped, feeling his hard bulge pressing into her lower back. “Get off of me, Gojo!”

“Gojo? What happens to Satoru? Or love? Or ‘Toru?” His nose trails along the side of her neck, inhaling. “You smell so good… I missed you so bad, Y/n… you have been very mean…” he grinded against her. “I marked you because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but… you ran… ran for eight months and so…” he emits his pheromones, forcing her to submit. “So, you will submit to me, to your alpha.”

Y/n fights against his pheromones, but she doesn’t stand a chance. Her eyes roll back, and she falls into submission – pushing against his bulge.

“Good girl,” Satoru purrs, releasing his hold on her. She falls limp on the bed, and he takes the opportunity to undress her completely and then himself.

He flips her onto her back, and he can see she is still fighting back, holding on to a thin string of her sanity.

Satoru sucks harsh red marks all over her neck; remember to come and lap at her mark to earn a whimper from her every time. “Come back to me, Y/n… no more running…” he muttered, swirling his tongue around her pucker nipple. “I need you, and you need me.” The tip of his nose trail down to her tummy, and he kisses above her belly button. “You smell so ripe, Y/n… you’re going to be a wonderful mother…”

“Stop…”

“I want four children…” he places four kisses in a row on her skin, “you will give me four children, Y/n. ” He looks down at her with a grin, “or more.”

His hands push her thighs further apart, running his fingers along her wet glistening slit. “You’re so wet for me already…” Two fingers slip past her folds, and he wastes no time thrusting them and slips a third finger, stretching her wide open.  “Need to prep you, I’ve gone eight months without making love to you, and I’ve been pent up. I don’t want to hurt you,” he rubs the tip of his nose against her clit, “but I would never hurt you.” He chuckles with her hips rock against his fingers, and he withdraws them, shifting himself until his thick enraging cock is aligned at her pussy.

“’Toru…” she whimpers, “please…”

Satoru pushes only the tip in, “please what?” He grips her hips still, preventing her from moving.

“Please fuck me.” Y/n whispered, “fuck me, Satoru.”

The remaining control he had left depleted, and he thrusts until his hip bone met hers and immediately began rocking long strokes.

He pushed her thighs until her knees touched the bed, changing the angle so he could thrust deeper.

Y/n moans, gripping the comforter. “Too – too deep…”

Satoru smiles, crystal eyes gleaming, “oh baby, it’s got to be deep if we want to make a baby.”

His hips snapped harder into hers each time the tip of his cock poked her cervix. He thrusts faster, constantly touching her cervix to stimulate and open it to accept his knot.

His knot.

He grunts with each thrust; not only was it his birthday, but he was also due for his rut—terrible timing, in his opinion.

Or maybe not.

Because it led him straight to Y/n.

He stood outside her door, their mate bond leading him to apartment door 489. It reeked her scent. He knew without a doubt she was inside.

He only passed her keypad because of the smudge on her thumbpad. He will have to scold her later for being too careless.

When he found her deeply asleep in her room, she tossed and turned, mumbling in her sleep.

She was murmuring his name.

“Please… let me cum…”

Satoru rolls his neck, hearing the crackling like a glowstick.

With that, his rut activated.

His rut has been irregular, with many factors to play, such as being physically, mentally, and emotionally away from his mate. For Satoru, he hasn’t had a rut since he marked her.

“’Toru… let me cum…” Y/n whimpers softly.

She has completely given in and submitted her whole heart, body, and soul to her alpha.

Satoru could feel the opening of her cervix; he thought of it once during this first time and kept thrusting. He leaned over her, enclosing his large frame over her. His lips are close to hers, and he keeps their eyes locked. “I won’t let you go again, Y/n… do you hear me?”

She nods in an attempt to convey her agreement, but it becomes apparent that her gesture alone is insufficient to convince him. Despite her nod, he remained unconvinced, his skepticism evident in his demeanor. She will need to find a more compelling way to sway his heart.

“Say it.” He half growled and half pleaded. He was torn searching for, missing, needing, and wanting her. He never wants to go without her again. He will do everything to keep her by his side, in his arms, bed, and life. “Promise me.”

“Yes ‘Toru… I won’t run anymore… I don’t want to run anymore…” she cries, her eyes filled with tears, “I need you.”

His mouth locks with hers in a deep kiss. His hips slow in shallow thrusts. He pulls away, breathing hard, “promise?”

Y/n nods, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs locking around his waist. “Promise.”

Satoru’s heart soars with happiness, his arms wrap underneath her shoulders, hugging her close, and he thrusts faster, feeling their orgasm nearing. “I love you, Y/n. I love you…”

As soon as he feels her cervix open completely, welcoming his knot, Satoru pushes until the tip of his cock slips past the cervix ring and groans as his knot inflates.

He loosens her leg around his hip and rolls them over, with her on top of him. Satoru coos softly, licking her mark to try and distract her.

And himself, he is wincing each time Y/n’s walls compress around his cock while being stuffed. Haven’t knotted in an extended period; he knew this would take longer than usual to deflate.

After ten minutes of adjusting, Y/n finally calmed and relaxed in his arms. He wasn’t sure if she fell asleep or not. His hands keep rubbing her lower back, knowing that helps ease the pain during a knot.

“Do you really love me?” He hears her quiet, meek voice ask.

“Look at me,” he orders softly; she lifts her head off his shoulder and peers down at him with teary eyes. His thumbs swiped underneath her eyes, “yes, I loved you before this.”

“When?” her voice cracked.

“When I met you during orientation two school summers ago.”

Her head tilted, “but you didn’t even look my way then?”

“Cause it was so hard not to take you to the nearest empty classroom and fuck you until you admit you were mine.” He smiles cheekily. “It was difficult being around you. Especially sitting next to you and being able to smell the sweet addicting scent you give off.”

Y/n sat up abruptly, forgetting he was still lodged inside of her, and they both winced; any sort of movement was very sensitive and overstimulating.

She presses a light touch to her protruding belly full of his knot and cum. “I didn’t get pregnant the first time, and thinking back, I was disappointed.” She looks at him, “do you think this time worked?”

Satoru pushes himself on his elbows and smiles, “I’ll knot you as many times as I need to until there’s a baby.”

. . .

@hellatrashdontask @queenelleee @wrongimagine @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @yourgonvermnethooker @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @basmamme @haitanifxn @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @omissanitizerlol

[the-meat-machine]

rereading the epilogues and going insane about the dirkrose vibes all over again

dirk's palpable yearning to have someone by his side who understands what he's going through. all this stuff about how he and rose are "basically the same person". dirk taking her hand, thinking of her as beautiful, saying that they belong together. dirk explicitly positioning himself as a competitor to kanaya. and then the whole part at the end where dave wonders if dirk and rose are TOGETHER together and no one feels like they can fully deny that it's a possibility

like! god! these two!!!!

[fbfh]

You are the GOD of writing yearning. It’s always so palpable and I’m always left blushing. Romantic or Sexual, it doesn’t matter. You’re literally in my top 5 favorite tumblr blogs.

AWWWWWW BABES!!!!!!!!!!!! WAILING SCREAMING SOBBING!!!!!!!! <3333333

Listen Tewkesbury is my current brain rot (stage 5 and chronic) and he is the god of experiencing yearning!!!!!! Match made in heaven!!!!!!!! perfect opportunity to drop some Tewkes yearning for you quotes!!!!

pov tewkes and you finally end up in a heated love confession bc he's been waking up in a cold sweat at night craving your touch and your adorable obliviousness is finally about to make him fuckin snap

"I wish they would retract my status as an eligible bachelor in the society pages, but I more so wish that you would be the one to rescind that title for me."

"There is nowhere far enough for you to run that could remove you from my thoughts, and there is no length too great that I should not follow."

"You plague my mind. You consume my every thought. Every moment, waking and asleep, I ache for you."

"I am coming unone, I am unraveling at the mere thought of you! Each moment I spend in your presence is another moment spent wishing for you to consume my very being!"